


Small Hands

by Writingishard



Series: Small Hands [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bruce Banner Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Family Feels, Gen, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent-Child Relationship, Pre-Avengers (2012), Protective Bruce, The Avengers (2012) - Freeform, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-08-15 15:36:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8061940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingishard/pseuds/Writingishard
Summary: "Bruce Banner has only been in Kolkata, India a few months before it blows up in his face." Dr. Bruce Banner had only wanted to protect people from the Hulk. Then again, when had anything ever gone the way he'd wanted? The odd little girl with anger issues he was now stuck with certainly wasn't planned.Or A little girl worms her way into the life of an unstable doctor, and now the Avengers will have to deal with helping raise a grumpy child who acts too grown up for her own good and save the world while doing it.





	1. How We Start

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own The Avengers or any works associated with it.
> 
> "italics," speaking Bangla.
> 
> Mitra Hazra is the only thing I own. To learn more about her, go to my tumblr (http://writingbutnotreally.tumblr.com/) where you'll find other characters and/or stuff I've written (it's not a lot, but it's mine).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers or any other associated works.
> 
> " _Italics,_ " spoken in Bangla

* * *

_“The house does not rest on the ground, but upon a woman.” – Mexican Proverb_

* * *

 

_How We Start_

Bruce Banner has only been in Kolkata, India* a few months before it blows up in his face.

The raven-haired little girl at his doorstep – so tiny and thin in her well-worn dress– is not an altogether unfamiliar experience at this point. Bruce had quickly become the slums go-to-doctor since showing up, and even without that it didn't take a good eye to see that he stuck out in a crowd (though, thankfully, not enough for tanks to come rolling up to his doorstep). The girl gave off the typical elements Bruce is used to dealing with as a doctor, (the desperation, fear, the helplessness) but he also sees something else, something stronger, almost familiar, in her furrowed brows and pouting lips. It's vague but very much there, and its presence is unsettling enough that Bruce does not think on it further than that.

" _Come with me!"_ The little girl demands.

Her voice is strong and determined, and if Bruce was a less perceptive man, he probably wouldn't have thought she was scared of anything. He thinks she can't be more than eight years old at most, and yet she stands her ground in front of him like they're in the middle of some kind of steel cage death-match, and the poor doctor doesn't really know what to do with that.

" _You are the doctor, right? Hurry up and come with me!"_ she grounds out with a stomp of her foot when he doesn't move from his doorway.

It takes him a minute to get his bearings, because Bruce can't seem to remember the last time anyone – at least, not since the Other Guy – ordered him around like that, much less a kid.

And really, who asked for a doctor like that?

"Uh… _hello?"_ He says anxiously and glances around for any sign of an adult. " _Is something wrong? Is someone ill?"_

His awkward Bangla isn't all that impressive and seems embarrassingly worse in the face of this unreasonably aggressive little girl. At his hesitant words, the girl grits her teeth and tilts her head to the sky like she's asking god for patience, and Bruce can't decide whether he should be awed or insulted by the sheer nerve.

" _You are the doctor, or aren't you?! If you want to get paid, then stop asking stupid questions and come with me!"_

She takes off without another word, and he stands stock-still for second in disbelief before snapping out of his stupor, and hurriedly collects his medical supplies to follow her. It is his job to help people, after all – even if he is already a little annoyed with his new client. The girl gives him stealthy glances over her shoulder as they go to make sure he's keeping up, expertly weaving through the throng of people all the while. Bruce does keep up, though not nearly as gracefully, and not too much later they reach a small block of shacks just outside the city's red-light district. The girl stops at the front door of one, and suddenly she's every bit the frightened child she'd tried to hide at his doorstep.

"… _She is in there."_ Her voice breaks with emotion, but when she looks up at him, the hard lines of her features don't betray her in the same way. " _Save her…I can't do it, so… so save mama…please."_

Bruce wastes no time and he quickly enters, finding the home's only bedroom on his right. He finds a woman – shivering in a cold sweat, teeth chattering, and wrapped in several threadbare blankets with a bucket of water and a wet rag by her bedside. She's in bad shape, likely has been for some time, and Bruce can tell he's got his work cut-out for him. As the doctor comes closer to her side, he sees the dried blood on her cracked and quivering lips and can smell the awful stench of infection from her weak body. The woman has a high fever, judging from the sweat drenching the bed sheets, and it comes as no surprise to Dr. Banner that she seems to be babbling incoherently under her breath.

" _Ma'am?"_ He whispers to her carefully. " _I am a doctor. I am here to help. Can you hear me? Can you tell me your name? "_

The woman's eyes flutter open, blurry and unfocused. She reaches out a far-too-skinny arm, as if to call out to him, and whispers something that Bruce strains to hear.

" _Mitra? Where is Mitra? Where is she? Where did she go? My girl… My Mitra…"_

* * *

 

It takes the young mother, Shanta, three days to die. Bruce realizes the inevitable by first day's end but tries to keep her as comfortable as possible with what little he has. The little girl, Mitra, is a mess of tears and angry fists. She runs at him from her mother's deathbed in a rage, screeching hateful words at him for letting her mother die. Bruce lets her punch and kicks at him with what little strength her body has before little Mitra collapses in exhaustion and anguish at his feet.

Bruce does his best to comfort, but just like with her mother, there is little he can do for the girl. She has no siblings and now no parents, – only a run-down home stained with loss and grief to keep her company – and it's a burden no child should have to carry. Dr. Banner feels the all too familiar guilt of another person he couldn't save – another victim. Even though it was irrational, even though he knows Shanta had been too far gone for him to do anything, Bruce still feels the grief of failure– of self-loathing– that by now is just as much a part of him as the monster that haunts his every heartbeat.

The funeral is a quiet affair. A few women come to pay their respects, but do not stay for long, nor did they spare any words of comfort for the newly orphaned child left behind. Some neighbors come to stand silently as prayers are read, but again none seem there to do more than to bare witness to the woman’s passing. There are no family members present aside from Mitra, and with no father or other relatives coming forward, Bruce begins to worry.

" _I don't remember him much. I think I was three when baba came last."_ Mitra later tells Bruce despondently after the funeral. " _I guess… he didn't like me much."_

"…Oh." was Bruce's intelligent reply.

Bruce takes her home with him. Whether from guilt or duty, (or maybe both, or maybe because he feels like he has no other choice – possibly because he has no idea what else to do) he really doesn't know. The only thing that he knows is that he _can't leave her there_. He decides that he can risk keeping Mitra close, if only for a few days. Within that time, he thinks, he'll be able to find her a new home, and they'd both get on with their lives. A part of him knows he's hoping for a miracle – knows that this is probably the worst idea he's had in a long, _long_ while – but Bruce just crams that part away to the back of his consciousness alongside all that rage and common sense screaming at him for being such a sentimental idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The West Bengal Government officially renamed the city of Calcutta to Kolkata on the 1st of January, 2001. As this story takes place well after that, Kolkata is correct.


	2. Dead End Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce talks, but no one wants to hear it, not even Mitra. 
> 
> (Then again, it's not like Bruce really knows what he's doing.)

* * *

_“Expect the best, plan for the worst, and prepare to be surprised.” – Denis Waitley_

* * *

 

It’s been a little over a month.

In the first weeks, Bruce does his best to help Mitra between his appointments. The poor girl barely speaks or eats, but Bruce tries to gently encourage her and help adjust to her new ( _temporary_ ) home. It becomes clear pretty quickly, though that he isn’t finding her another home in just a few days. The girl had just watched her mother waste away from illness, and the doctor belatedly realized that simply packing her a bag and sending her away with strangers was something he _just couldn't do_. Right now she needed time, and Bruce was, unfortunately, the one who had to give it to her.

 

So he waits for her, knowing full well it’s a terrible idea and hopes for the best. The weeks go by slow and quiet, with Mitra recovering bit by bit as the time passed, and Bruce begins to see glimpses of the girl he’d first met at his doorstep. She starts asking him questions about his work and why he’s there, and for the most part, Bruce can answer her without too much difficulty. There’s no denying Mitra’s a cranky little thing, acting more caustic than even he is at times. She’s bossy and a little rude, but Bruce can’t help but find her grumpy face and huffy attitude kind of endearing for some reason.

 

(He, of course, tries to ignore that.)

 

Once Bruce feels sure Mitra is doing better and would be alright moving forward, the doctor began searching for her new home. He finds the women from the funeral in the redlight district pretty quickly and almost immediately recognizes that their courtesy appearance had been just that – a courtesy. He talks to the priest from the funeral to see if he knows anything, but the old man dozes off at almost every other sentence while they quietly sip tea, and can barely remember what he was doing before Bruce came by. He finds nothing on Mitra’s father; no forms, gifts, or even a goddamn picture of the man.`

 

So, Bruce talks to neighbors, but they’re all very reluctant to even discuss Mitra, much less take her in. They do reveal, however, a likely tumultuous relationship between Mitra’s mother and grandparents, and the result seemed to be the older couple washing their hands completely of their daughter and granddaughter. With no information on them other than that barely useful bit of gossip, Banner hits yet another dead end. Three weeks pass while he searches with no progress, and Bruce was starting to really regret hoping for that damned miracle.

 

* * *

 

“I want to be doctor.”

 

Bruce pauses midway through putting away his equipment. He’d just come back from his last house call of the night and had barely set his bag down before he's hit with a demand. He stares awkwardly at the girl, who’s glaring as if he’d already done something wrong by just coming through his own front door.

 

“…O-Oh…Uhh… That’s good?”

 

Mitra rolls her eyes.

 

“I want to be doctor.  Dr. Bruce, teach me.” She demands curtly.

 

He’s long stopped questioning Mitra’s odd (and/or rude) habits; like how she hides her old Raggedy Anne Doll under her blankets like it’s some sort of shameful secret, or how she kicks at his legs (with just enough force to be annoying) if he ignores her for too long, or like now, when she just says things out of left field and expects an immediate response like _it wasn’t completely out of left field_. Bruce decides pretty quickly that asking about it won’t do him much good, only more glaring and kicking probably, so he leaves the girl to her oddities – if for no other reason then so she’d leave him to his.

 

“While I appreciate that you think I can teach something as complicated as medicine, you’ll really have to go to school for that.” he says with a nervous laugh and goes back to settling in for the night.

 

“Do not.” Mitra responds in stilted English she’d been practicing almost since moving in. “And I ask for you teach me because you doctor. I no go to school.”

 

Bruce snatches up the pan of leftovers from the hotplate on his beaten up coffee table and sits down across from her.

 

“If you want to be a doctor, then you can’t just **not** go to school, Mitra.” He says as he takes a spoon full of  _dhal_.  “That’s not how it works.”

 

“Say fake doctor.”

 

He sighs loudly; they’ve had that conversation more than once by now.

 

“I am NOT a fake doctor. I’m just not technically a medical doctor. I still know how to help people – that’s what counts.”

 

Mitra stands up from her seated position on the floor with her shoulders squared, seeming to think the new height will make all the difference in her case.

 

“It count! So, teach me to fake doctor like you!”

 

“Hey, even a ‘fake doctor like me’ had to go to school to learn how. An education is good for you to have.”

 

“I not need school. I have books!”  Mitra exclaimed.

 

Which is somewhat true, at least. The child had quickly found his collection of books that were for both entertainment and scientific study after moving in and had even brought a few of her own workbooks. Mitra seemed to very much enjoy reading and learning, and Bruce has, for the most part, let her do as she pleased while living his messy shack. She couldn’t read any of his books at all really, but Banner quickly found that Mitra was unbelievably stubborn when she wanted something. By this point, she could read at least a small amount of English without his help, and while that was impressive, he really didn’t think that counted as a well-rounded education.  

 

“Well, uh, believe it or not, books can’t actually teach you everything. And what about friends?” Bruce inquires, switching tactics. “Don’t you want to have friends to play with? Someone your own age to talk to?”

 

The girl scoffs loudly, and the sound is disturbingly out of place coming out of an eight-year old’s mouth.

 

“They stupid.”

 

“…Well, that’s not very nice.”

 

“Is true.”

 

Bruce shakes his head over his small pot of lentils.

 

“I don’t really understand the problem here.” He says with a dry laugh, passing a hand over his face and combing fingers through his hair. “School can be a good experience for you, and I think you’d really like it if you gave it a chance, Mitra.”

 

“I cannot.”

 

“You like learning. I know you do; I’ve seen it. Would it really be so bad to go to a place that is exactly for that?” he insists. 

 

“I tell you, I cannot!” Mitra yells angrily.

 

His brow quirks at her statement, confused. Banner knows that his best option is to let the subject drop, to just let her yell things and move on, but…

 

“What do you mean you ‘cannot’?”

 

Mitra immediately tenses at his question. She is quiet for a long while, avoiding his eye and pursing her lips together tightly in thought. Neither of them moves and Bruce tries not to look uneasy in the heavy silence.

 

“I…uhn…I do not…” She replied haltingly but starts to backpedal. “…I mean…No–”

 

Her face scrunches up in frustration as she struggles for words. After a few more moments, Mitra sighs in defeat and mumbles an answer.

 

_“আস্থা.”_

 

_Āsthā._

 

_Trust._

 

The doctor takes a second to make sense of what she’s saying.

 

“You don’t…trust schools?” Bruce asks slowly, with bewilderment in his voice.

 

Her cheeks momentarily flush at his tone, but she doesn’t yell at him for it like he kind of expects her to, and instead simply nods determinedly at the doctor.

 

“I do not,” Mitra replies quietly.

 

She gives him something of a long, calculated look, almost daring the doctor to say something against her. Then, after another long (uncomfortable) moment, Mitra walks away to her sleeping mat on the far corner of the room; abruptly ending the conversation she had all but demanded of him when he came in.

 

Bruce doesn’t know why he’s even surprised.

 

“…O–k. Good talk, then. Goodnight, Mitra.” He says, not even trying to hide his exasperation.

 

Mitra mutters something that sounds suspiciously like an insult, but Bruce lets it go. He thinks she must have forgotten her original goal in the midst of conversation, as children are wont to do, and he’s relieved to not have to argue the issue anymore. It would do neither of them any good to spend more time with each other and get attached. Plus, if she really wanted to be a doctor, there were far better ways to do it than forming some medieval apprenticeship with Banner, of all people. Anyway, he was still hoping (really, _really_ hoping) to find her another place to live, preferably a real honest-to-goodness family and – even more preferably – far away from the ticking bomb that was Dr. Bruce Banner.

 

He goes to bed thinking he’s dodged a bullet and falls asleep with the slight relief that there was at least one thing he didn’t have to worry over.


	3. Walking The Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or _Talking Was a Bad Idea_
> 
> Bruce is a smart guy, he really is. He just really hoped she’d be a regular kid for once and wake up wanting to be a rockstar or something. because kids do that, right? 
> 
> right?
> 
> (In which the clock is ticking, Mitra stalks Bruce and one way or another all plans get shot to hell.)

* * *

  _“Learning is not attained by chance, it must be sought for with ardor and attended to with diligence.” – Abigail Adams_

* * *

 

As it turned out, Bruce hadn’t actually dodged anything – _not even close_. In fact, he’d rapidly come to the horrifying realization that he’d pretty much shot himself in the foot the moment he’d let that damn kid through his front door.

 

Dr. Bruce Banner was an intelligent man, had proven as much – for better or worse – more than once in his life. However, even with smarts and grim history to influence the man, it turned out that even _the oh so intelligent_ Dr. Banner could succumb to the delusions of wishful thinking. Yes, given what he knew personally of Mitra, he likely should have seen her reaction coming, and couldn’t exactly say it was a surprise to find out the girl was ( _freakishly_ ) single-mindedly focused when she decided she wanted something. He’d just, well, _really_ wanted to believe that _just this once_ she’d be a regular kid and wake up the next morning suddenly wanting to be a rockstar or something, instead. (Because, kids did that, right? He was pretty sure they did, anyway.)

 

Honestly, he really should have known better by now. Because, really, when had anything in his life ever worked out the way he’d wanted it to?

 

After that one night of useless arguing, things went downhill fairly quickly. Mitra dogged Bruce around the city like a tiny, vindictive bloodhound, and pestered him non-stop to teach her, to let her help him with patients, to _just help make her a doctor already and stop being stupid!_ But Banner stayed firm, doing his best to keep at arm's length while trying desperately to convince Mitra on a normal education so she wouldn’t ask him anymore. When words didn’t work, the girl followed Banner into appointments, paying close attention to his work with the same intensity she would use when studying his books. His patients didn’t seem very bothered by it, as by now it was common knowledge that the kind American doctor had taken in a poor orphan girl, and so it was simply assumed that the poor thing was just too grief-stricken for the doctor leave home. Mitra wasted no time taking advantage; playing up the facade of a meek and innocent child so his clients didn’t cast her out, then glaring tenaciously at Bruce when their backs were turned.

 

(Bruce actually preferred the glaring; her shy girl act was just unsettling, at least to him.)

 

He understands to some extent why this is so important to Mitra. After seeing what disease could do up close, and ripping her life apart and take the person most precious to her, it made sense that she would latch on so desperately to a career in medicine. To save people in the way her mother wasn’t, to never again feel as helpless as she was now, to have a reason to be hopeful; in another life, Bruce could see himself being the kind of man who’d move heaven and earth to help Mitra reach that goal. But Bruce isn’t that man with that life, and likely never would be no matter how much he’d wished differently. The mild-mannered Dr. Bruce Banner was a monster under the guise of a decent man, always would be a monster in spite of everything he’d tried, and Mitra was an only a child, ignorant to the truth unless it came too late.

 

His other self, _The_ _Other Guy_ , would always be in the back of his mind, waiting for Bruce to show weakness, and no one would ever be safe so long as he ( _begrudgingly_ ) lived and breathed. Bruce already had so much blood and destruction on his hands, and _he was just so tired of it all_ ; all he wanted was to have a bit of peace while did what little he could to make up for all the wrong he’d done. But Mitra was just too stubborn, and Bruce knew he had to get rid of her before it went too far. There was only so much pressure the doctor could take, and it was only a matter of time before this gamble he’d made on their lives turned costly.

 

Therein lied the problem, however. Apparently, Mitra had a reputation among the residents of her neighborhood (because  _of course, she did_ ). Orphanages, shelters, group homes – hell, even an older couple desperate for children had slammed the door in his face practically the moment they realized he was talking about the  _evidently infamous_ Mitra. The director of one particular orphanage, a very kind old woman from what Bruce had been told, had hissed viciously at him that ‘ _the Rakshasi was his problem now_ ,’ and ran him off the orphanage property with a wooden broom. (He figured that meant he shouldn’t come back to ask what she’d meant.)

 

Others were kinder about their dismissals, at least. A caregiver of one group home later informed Bruce that Mitra had been placed with others before on several occasions when her mother first fell ill. According to the caretaker, Mitra got into fights, scared other children, stole whatever food and money she could find, and then headed straight back to her mother. This eventually happened so often, that Mitra was just left alone. He then apologetically explained that, given her history, it was doubtful anyone would take Mitra in– especially since a foreign doctor already had.

 

It made sense when Bruce thought about it later, on his way home. He was an educated foreigner that no one knew, who was caring for the troublesome child that no one wanted. From the communities’ perspective at least, it was the perfect arrangement. They’d given up on Mitra, deemed the tiny girl too troublesome to bother with, and Bruce was glad he had the self-control to force back his rage for their indifference.

 

Three months pass the doctor by while he’s searching for a miracle, and day by day he curses himself all the more for being so goddamn stupid.

* * *

 

It inevitably all went hell, (because of course it did; why wouldn’t it?) just not in the way Banner had expected.

 

Despite his efforts to dissuade her, Mitra continued following Dr. Bruce. She’d taken to keeping her distance while walking the neighborhood– keeping Banner in her sights while subtly putting about three or four people between them – and it unnerves Bruce quite a bit that she’s this good at stalking someone. Bruce knows the feeling of being hunted down; of being preyed upon by someone obsessed. He’s made even more uncomfortable with the fact that Mitra (tiny slip of a girl, Mitra) could remind him of such an oppressive feeling that he’d once only attributed to a man that had been molded by war and duty. He can feel her angry little stare burning at his back, and that does nothing to quell his steadily growing nerves.

 

And then, there’s suddenly a distant sound of a crash behind his back.

 

And not a second after there’s screaming.

 

The interruption of their natural controlled chaos leaves the streets in a confused frenzy. A few officers armed with semi-automatics are pushing people out of their way, following the screeching. Bruce whips his head around wildly, suddenly panicked after catching sight of the weapons, and for a few horrifying seconds, all he can think is that he’d been found. The General finally caught up to him, cornered him in a public area in a last-ditch effort to lock him up or put him down. There were likely already snipers on him; a squadron probably circling in, and  _damn it all_ he got careless, gotten too wrapped up in some kid and her  _stupid little tantrums_. _Goddamnit,_ he had to run, he had to–

 

Another scream, much more agonized than the last, suddenly pulls Banner out of his hysterics. A sea of muttering people part around the source of the screams. A bag of miscellaneous items is scattered around an older man laying on his side, clutching at his leg and crying out in pain. Mitra is on her backside and staring at the man on the ground in front of her in a shell-shocked stupor. The two, it seemed, had accidentally collided, and now at least one of them was injured. Bruce moves slowly through the mass of people, focusing on young Mitra sitting motionless on the ground.

 

He can’t tell if she’s okay from where he is or the people in his way, and that only brings back his previous panic. He’s surprised by how still she is under the crowds’ scrutinizing gaze.  Everything he knows about Mitra (bossy, hot-headed, quick-to-give-an-opinion-no-one-asked-for Mitra) tells Bruce that she should be standing and mouthing off at people by now. At very least, he expected Mitra to say something rude, and then run off without waiting for a reaction. Instead, she sits there staring into space like a doll, and it worries him even more.

 

(Later, he’ll tell himself that as a doctor, it was normal that he worried for her as much as he did. He tells himself that, and tries hard not think about it anymore.)

 

In the time it takes to reach the center of the commotion, Mitra’s wide brown eyes find his in the crowd. If possible she freezes up even more, and for the first time since they’d met, the little girl pales in sickening terror at the sight of him. The look she gives him strikes hard like a physical blow, and his heart spikes just a little more, this time, coupled with a nauseous, frightening feeling dropping in from his chest to stomach like a cold stone. She was afraid. She was afraid of him.

 

It made no sense for her to suddenly know who he was, – what he was – and, really, it was a quite a jump to think that Mitra had figured him out when not even his own government seemed able to. However, dread is still highlighting his every rushing thought, and now he can’t seem to think straight while watching fear play out in her young face. Mitra’s chest starts to expand and constrict in violent spasms, and while she gasps for air through her mouth, sweat breaks out on the girl’s skin; hyperventilation and sudden rise in temperature, Dr. Banner’s bewildered mind supplied with a clinical sort of distance, possibly a panic attack due to environmental stress. He makes a move then, to get closer – to help her.

 

And then, Mitra is going full sprint in the other direction.

 

She’s running away from him.

 

It hits him like a punch to the stomach.

 

Mitra disappears from his sight all too quickly, screaming coming back to his ears as soon as she does, (when he had he stopped hearing it?) and someone in the chaos is yelling for a doctor. All at once his senses come back to him, and suddenly Bruce feels very foolish. Of course, she didn’t know about the Other Guy. She was just a kid – a scared kid who thought she’d done something wrong and ran. Mitra thought she was in trouble; it wasn’t about The Other Guy, and he needed to _calm down_. Dr. Banner pulls himself together, and for the time being, he puts Mitra to the back of his mind; he was a doctor, and right now people needed him.

 

He could focus on that instead of the sick, worried feeling festering in the pit of his gut.

 

“ _I am a doctor. Let me through!_ ”

  
The people pull apart and out of his path, and quickly the doctor sets to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Rakshasa** – demonic beings of Hindu lore. They were supposedly man-eating creatures made from the breath of the creator god, Brahma, while he slept. **Rakshasi** is a Rakshasa female.
> 
> To all my readers, thank you very much for your support. I hope I can live up to your expectations. I'm particular about the work I decide to publish, so really, if I publish anything, I consider a small miracle. I'm glad that people enjoy my work. Reviews are more helpful then I first realized, so please take some time to do that if you can – I'd really appreciate it. Again, **thank you for your support.**


	4. I Want [You] To Understand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For him to be the one to handle such a delicate crisis seemed almost unusually cruel. And he really wants to leave – really wants to be anywhere but here – but damn it all he couldn’t just make a run for it now, could he? 
> 
> …Could he?
> 
> (Emotions are messy, Bruce is sad and has no people skills, and Mitra has secrets that no one expected.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took longer than usual, but I hope this chapter will make up for it. Until recently, I'd had most of the chapters written long before publishing. Now, I've hit a bit of a snag, since for some reason this and the next chapter had been very difficult. I ask that you please be patient with me, and I'll do my best to put out my best writing as quickly as I can. **Please enjoy this next chapter!**

* * *

  _“You may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment if you do not trust enough.” – Frank Crane_

* * *

 

If an ambulance was called at any point, it never got to them.

 

Bruce wasn’t complaining, though; he wasn’t particularly confident he’d be able to safely slip away if the medics were accompanied by authorities, which they likely would be. However, Dr. Banner couldn’t deny that a little help would be appreciated; after all, his patient’s injuries were definitely  _not_ what he was expecting.

 

Bruce had no idea how it happened, but somehow a rounded section of the man’s upper thigh was in a state of near complete necrosis – his flesh black, foul smelling, and almost fragile enough to fall away at a touch. The old man shouldn’t have been able to walk with an injury so severe, yet he’d gone about his business around town like nothing was wrong until running into Mitra. Banner tried to ask him questions to figure out how the hell this happened, but all he got were pained groans and delirious begging. Dr. Banner ended up in some poor grandmother’s house using one of her bedrooms (possibly her son’s, he hadn’t really paid attention) to surgically cut out the dead flesh on his new patient’s thigh.

 

After hours of emergency surgery, dead thigh and muscle tissue cut away and disposed of, and some of his strongest painkillers, Bruce was eventually able to get the man stable and contact his relatives to inform them of his injury and where to find him. Night had fallen sometime during the procedure, and all the good doctor wanted was to pass out on his dingy cot and maybe stay there forever. The day had been long, frustrating, and all around too confusing to think on in his tired state. He needed rest, and not just from today’s events either – his life had become far more stressful than usual as of late. Answers, and a likely fruitless search for a (stubborn, abrasive, and street-smart) child, could wait for now.

 

When Bruce stumbled into to the threshold of his tiny hut, he fully expected to find it as empty as he’d left it that morning. Instead – as he stalks almost drunkenly in without bothering to find a light switch – he stops short of flopping lifelessly on his bed when he notices something just out of his sight. A small lump is huddled on the mat in the far corner – Mitra’s mat on the floor in the far corner. Bruce isn’t really sure what to do right then; he kind of just stands there staring like an idiot at the shivering mess of covers. Dr. Banner had PhDs in nuclear physics and biochemistry, and he could compete with brightest minds of his time – but put a sad little girl in front of him, and the man was just a few steps short of useless.

 

He couldn’t fix this with something simple like a nice dinner or a quick English lesson. No, Bruce had a feeling this was going to be messy. Bruce never had much in the way of people skills, even before going into hiding. For him to be the one to handle such a delicate crisis seemed almost unusually cruel, both to himself and to the little girl he might emotionally scar in the process. And he really wants to leave – really wants to be anywhere but here – but damn it all he couldn’t just make a run for it now, could he?

 

…Could he?

 

A sudden rustling of sheets and a muffled sniffle lets Bruce know that no, of course, he couldn’t. Damning his own conscience, Bruce bows his head takes a deep breath, and steps carefully closer to the little girl’s corner.

 

“…Mitra?”

 

More rustling.

 

“…Go ‘way.”

 

Bruce fidgets with his hands and the sleeves of his blazer, not really knowing what to do or say. Slowly, he walks towards the front door and flicks on the light switch he’d neglected earlier, quietly letting Mitra know beforehand on the off chance it might upset her. When nothing happens after the lights are on, Bruce clears his throat and tries talking again.  

 

“Are…you hurt anywhere?” he asks.

 

“I said, go away!” shouts the mass of blankets.

 

“ _I…I don’t think I can do that,_ ” Bruce replies quietly in Bengali, shifting slightly from one foot to the other. “ _I_ _,_ uh _, have to make sure you’re not hurt. It’s my job._ ”

 

Her head shoots up with the blankets still completely over her, and Bruce thinks she might be growling at him. He’s pretty sure there’s going to be screaming, or maybe something getting thrown his way and he's prepared to just let the girl be and leave like he'd wanted to in the first place. Instead, her head wilts down on her bed a second later and he hears another sniffle.

 

“ _The man_.” He hears her say softly.

 

Bruce arches an eyebrow in question. “ _The man_?”

 

“ _The man…that I ran into,”_ Mitra slowly pulls the sheets off her head. _“…he is – was he hurt bad_?”

 

With the sheets pushed away, Bruce can finally get a good look at her; her eyes misty from tears, her blotchy cheeks, and her small red nose. The child seems to suddenly realize her sad state and scrubs uselessly at her wet face and nose with hands and blankets.

 

“ _He’s going to be okay,”_ Bruce reassures her, face going soft at her sorrow. “ _He just needs time to recover, is all.”_

 

A lot of time, he thinks silently but telling her that wouldn’t help anything so he doesn’t. His reassurance somehow makes it worse, though because Mitra’s eyes glaze over with more tears and her face goes blank and distant.   

 

“ _I_ _hurt him.”_ She whispers almost too softly to hear.

 

“What? No!” He says, startled her by her words.

 

He quickly calms himself, not wanting to make things worse by yelling. Bruce slowly comes to sit down near the girl, careful to leave a comfortable amount of space between them so as not to crowd her.

 

“ _This was not your fault, Mitra. That old man’s injuries had to have happened a long while ago. You had nothing to do with it,”_ Bruce quietly tells her.

 

But the little girl just shakes her head vigorously.

 

“ _You don’t understand.”_ Mitra choked out in tears. “ _I did it. I hurt him! I did! I don’t know why I did…I-I didn’t mean too, but I did it!”_

 

“ _No, Mitra._ _Mitra… Mitra, listen!”_ He tries to catch her eyes, pleading for her to listen. “ _He was already very sick before now. That man shouldn’t have even been able to walk around with how sick he was. You were just in the wrong place and at the wrong time. That’s all.”_

 

Again, Mitra refuses to listen.

 

“ _No, that's not how it –_ _I didn’t mean…I hurt him. I don’t know why. Why did I do it? I did it, but it wasn’t–”_

 

She mumbles incoherently as she sobs and Bruce can only watch on helplessly. He doesn’t know what to do to calm her; to make her see that she’d done nothing wrong. If he knew why she felt so compelled to take the blame maybe he’d have some idea, but unfortunately, he’s completely clueless. The poor thing is nearly hysterical, and Bruce has no idea how to handle it. Hesitantly, he does the only thing he can think of and (awkwardly) tries to place his hand on her shoulder.

 

“It’s ok…” he whispers in a tone he hopes is comforting.

 

But it seems Bruce pushed too far, because the moment his hand makes contact, Mitra wrenches herself away from him with an angry howl. She glares at him through her tears, heated and furious, and Bruce immediately recoils.

 

“ _You don’t understand!”_ She shouts.

 

And the little girl runs out the front door.

 

Bruce doesn’t turn or call out to her; he just closes his eyes and sits on the floor dejectedly, letting himself bemoan the whole damn interaction for a long while. The poor man groaned into his hands – what the hell he was even doing? He was so tired; why couldn’t he have just left? Mitra got to run twice now, and how was that fair?

 

But then, he thinks, maybe this was for the best. He’d been trying to find Mitra a home, a place to belong with family and safety, but maybe someone like him wasn’t capable of such happy endings – he certainly hadn’t found that for himself. Mitra running away from him, even with what might happen to her without his help, might actually be for the better in the long run. Bruce was living on borrowed time as it was, and it was already clear he couldn’t keep up the charade of the simple neighborhood doctor with Mitra for much longer. Bruce could only curse himself for all this. He should have dropped her off at the first house he could find and hiked his way to the nearest border from the very beginning; they’d have both been better off that way.

 

Somehow, though, Bruce had forgotten himself. Somewhere along the way, he had forgotten that being what he was meant not just staying calm, _but staying away_. It didn’t matter his intentions; he’d still put them both in harm’s way and instead of correcting that mistake he’d unconsciously made excuses that would keep her close. Bruce had ignored all his own warnings; had been selfish in his need for vindication and human interaction that was more than brief talks with strangers.

 

He had wanted to pretend for a moment that he was just a man – no demons to run and hide from and no anger to bury, just him and nothing else. And maybe, without really intending to, he’d wanted the little girl to play along so that it might be true. He’d wanted to lie, pretend he could do what normal people did ( _like comforting, like caring, like hoping_ ), and Mitra had run. And why wouldn’t she?

 

It was only natural to run from the monster.

 

“You not understand.”

 

Bruce turns in surprise to find Mitra a few feet away just behind him. (how had he not noticed she’d come back? How long had she even been gone?) Her face is still wet with tears, but her grief is now masked by a familiar look of determination that Bruce has long since come to associate with the bold child. The familiarity of it, of the fire he could see sparking in her eyes again, eased Bruce’s mind a bit.

 

“Mitra–” he starts.

 

“Dr. Bruce…I want Dr. Bruce… to understand. Okay?” She asks uncertainly.

 

After a moment, Bruce nods slowly.

 

“Ok.”  

 

Mitra nods once in return and lifts her hand up to show the doctor a fresh pear. Where she got it, Bruce has no idea, (he hadn’t bought fresh fruit in ages) but he figures now isn’t the time to ask. Still, he can’t help but give the girl a bewildered look as she holds the pear to his face like she was giving him the Holy Grail. Mitra does not falter, though; She simply holds the fruit in both hands, looks him in the eye, and she quietly says:

 

“Watch.”

 

And Bruce watches, eyes wide and jaw slack, as the bright green pear begins to shrivel and darken in her small hands. Starting from where her skin made contact with the fruit, dark bruises rapidly begin to form at her touch. Like a virus, the bruises spread over and deepen on the pear’s flesh while shriveling further in Mitra’s grasp. Bruce is very suddenly hit with the smell of decay as the fruit continues to rapidly wither – blackened fruit already half it’s size within a matter of seconds. The produce grows smaller and smaller in macabre fashion, and before Banner can really process everything, the pear fruit is now just small bits of black and dried pieces falling to the floor from the little girl’s hands.

 

Tiny brown seeds lay at the center of Mitra’s palm, undisturbed.

 

Bruce can’t tear his eyes away from them – from those seeds that had only just been inside of a whole fresh pear seconds ago – eyes blinking continuously because  _he can’t have just seen what he’s just seen_. He does stop, though, if only to stare at the girl who’d essentially just  _disintegrated_ something  _by just touching it_ before his very eyes. Mitra isn’t looking at him – still intently staring at the buds in her hands. He finally manages to speak, but can’t seem to stop tripping over words as he does.

 

“M-Mitra…Wh-what did y…you just–”

 

Mitra cuts him off with a loud hush and a glare.

 

“ _I’m concentrating!”_ she growls through her teeth.

 

His hands quickly come up in surrender, and Bruce snaps his mouth shut with a nod. The girl glares a little longer, before bringing her attention back to her seeds.

 

“ _This part is harder…”_ Mitra whispers absently, her brow creasing in concentration.

 

Again Bruce nods, slow and uncertain, and he settles his hands back down on his lap, trying not to look nervous. They sit in uneasy silence; minutes passing like hours as Mitra focuses completely on the small seeds in hand, while Bruce focuses completely on her. He’s got no clue what’s about to happen now – if it’ll be anything like what that piece of fruit went through, or worse – but at this point, all he could really do is brace himself and see things through. It’s not an ideal strategy, given its track record of royally screwing him over; but Mitra has already made up her mind, and if Bruce has learned anything by now, it’s that once the kid decided something it was usually best to just roll with it. So, he tries to relax and fixes all his attention on Mitra’s next move.  

 

Then, just as Bruce starts getting anxious and a little twitchy, _one of the seeds move_. The movement is small, Bruce barely catches it even while watching closely, but another kernel pulses in Mitra’s palm and this time it’s impossible not to notice. The seeds shake with sudden pent up energy and the shells crack audibly like eggs down the middle. Slowly, but far from naturally, the roots begin reaching out from within the growing crevasses. They grow at a steady pace, reaching out for the sky and tangling around Mitra’s fingers, gripping at her like the needy hands of a child.

 

The stems go from shades of light and dark browns to a luscious green at the high ends. The newly formed plant grows and grows, and before there’s an actual full grown tree inside Bruce’s home, it stops just at the top of Mitra’s head. The seeds are now a small sapling pear tree cradled by the roots in her hands, still holding on tightly to Mitra like it was afraid she might disappear beneath it. A long breath blew out of Mitra’s mouth as all rigid tension drops from her bony shoulders. She gives a smug smirk at the doctor’s awestruck face, although it’s not hard to see she’s fighting back a childish grin at her success.

 

“ _You understand, now?”_ She asks expectantly.

  
If he was being honest, he really had more questions than answers. Bruce didn’t say so out loud, though; he liked to think he was smarter than that, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about cutting this chapter in two, but I decided against it in the end. Bruce is difficult to write. It's so tricky to make him conically self-loathing while still trying to keep him from being overtly depressing. I just want to do him justice.
> 
> Something I'd like to clarify – Mitra's abilities do not make her a superhero. When I first wrote Mitra's character, she was just a normal (if super angry) little girl. The more thought about it, though, the more I realized she needed some kind of an upper hand to get by. Mitra won't be a superhero, she won't really fight anyone, and she most definitely won't be some key to saving the world or prophesied savior, or anything of the sort. She is just going to be a kid trying to grow up in the ridiculously complicated Marvel Universe. Mitra will learn to handle her powers as she grows older, in the same she'll need to handle training bras and period cramps.
> 
> Reviews and/or support of any kind are appreciated. **Thank you for reading!**


	5. Planting Roots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Always, this little girl (barely reaching his hip; maybe ninety pounds soaking wet) had acted as if she could move mountains if she wanted. Now Instead, Bruce is met with a scared but hopeful child, quietly asking not to be left alone. 
> 
> (Mitra is more than what he thought, and now Dr. Banner has to pick his jaw up off the floor and do something about it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it to two weeks! No, don't look at the time! It was two weeks! I'm not late, you're late! Okay so it's Monday night, and I'm posting with barely any time to spare, but hey, I feel proud I even got close to the time I set for myself.
> 
> Little something to know about me; I actually need a deadline. I know, deadlines do suck, but it actually keeps me from forgetting to write and post, and it helps me be organized with my time. I can't tell you how many times I thought I'd remember something important and then forget about it till, like, a month later. (For those of you with A.D.D. like me, try out the deadline thing, it will help you keep track of things better. Also get a white board. Big Bold Letters telling you to do something is also helpful.) I will try my best to keep to two weeks, as it seems to be a more doable pace for me. 
> 
> This chapter was going to be longer, but you know how you get to a part that just really feels like it should be a stopping point even though it wasn't supposed to be? Yeah, that happened. So, split this down the middle (kind of), but now that means I'm half done with the next chapter so that's good, right? Besides that, this one part of the story is pretty important and emotional and shit, so yeah that gets its own chapter. Please enjoy!

* * *

 “ _Hope is faith holding out its hand in the dark.” –  George Iles_

* * *

 

It takes Bruce a while to wrap his mind around what he’s just witnessed _._

 

Mostly, he spends a good thirty seconds mimicking a fish on dry land, staring at Mitra through the leaves of her  _magic tree_. (The scientist in him cringes at the word, but right now all he has is a tree growing out of nowhere by the will of a small child, so until he figures out some rational explanation for it – _magic._ ) He really shouldn’t have been this blown away; it isn’t as if Bruce hadn’t seen a lot of unbelievable things in his life ( _hell, he was an unbelievable thing_ ). There’s no denying, though, that Mitra’s little  _surprise_ leaves him reeling. Maybe it’s the surreal image of something impossible in such an out-of-place setting, or maybe it’s just that he hadn’t seen it coming – maybe it’s a little of both – either way, Dr. Bruce Banner is officially at a loss.

 

Bruce had lived alongside Mitra, talked and bickered and shared meals and slept on bed mats not ten feet away from each other every night; all that time never seeing the impossibility she was. It was ironic; it was funny; it was baffling; it was terrifying, and was very hard to swallow all at once. There isn’t a clear way for him to go from here – this would be uncharted territory for anyone, nevermind him. What the hell was he supposed to do? All Banner can really come up with that might be a step in the right direction is talking to Mitra about it.  

 

…So, what was he supposed to say, exactly?

 

For her part, Mitra is surprisingly unbothered by it all. She doesn’t speak or even pays much attention to him after her little performance. The little girl just quietly works on freeing her hands out of tree roots, ignoring Bruce while got his bearings again. The doctor watches, oddly mesmerized by Mitra’s gently wiggling fingers loosening the tendrils around her hands. He quickly realizes that she’s trying her best to get free with as little damage to the plant as possible. Her movements are conscious and tender, like the very idea of carelessly mutilating the plant was unforgivable to the girl.

 

Somewhere in a distant part of his muddled thoughts, Bruce thinks it’s a little funny; the only time Mitra isn’t being bossy and impatient, and it’s because of a _tree_.

 

“I have to put it in ground. So, it is safe.” Mitra states in English, interrupting Bruce’s silent musings. “…You…you will stay here …Yes?”

 

There’s a great deal of uncertainty in Mitra’s voice, sounding much smaller than Bruce has ever heard her. Startled by this, the doctor observes her with no small amount of curiosity. Always, this little girl (barely reaching his hip, and maybe ninety pounds soaking wet) had acted as if she could move mountains if she wanted. Now, in the wake of her secret laid bare, Mitra was not that boundless, headstrong girl he’d come to know. Instead, Bruce is met with someone very different – a scared but hopeful child, quietly asking not to be left alone.

 

His thoughts come screeching to a halt, as Banner takes this in. The girl fidgets under his curious gaze, anxiously waiting for him to answer, and something odd fills his chest. It’s almost like anger –like the Other Guy coming through – but it doesn’t feel dangerous or out of his control. Instead, it steadies him, gives him a kind of perspective to hold onto, and Bruce finds himself making decisions without as much worry or thought as before.

 

“Actually,” Bruce replies slowly. “I wouldn’t mind helping – If that’s alright?”

 

Her reaction is priceless; eyes going big for a just second, before turning her head away bashfully. Rolling on the balls of her feet, she brings the tree up higher so he can’t see her face. Bruce doesn’t want to laugh, not while Mitra is obviously so vulnerable, but he’s never seen her look so  _genuinely shy before,_ and it might be the most adorable thing he’s witnessed to date.

 

“… _If you want to.”_ Mitra mumbles, not looking his way, acting as if she didn’t care.

 

He has to smile a little at that.

* * *

They walk together in the night to a small wooded area not too far from Bruce's home. Mitra wraps a blanket around the small tree’s bottom and keeps it clutched protectively against her chest the whole way. The two don’t speak as they make the journey, but the silence is a comfortable one, and it’s a welcome change to the tension that had become their normal. Once they arrive, Mitra takes her time in choosing a spot to plant her tree, making certain it would grow properly and safely when she finally planted it in the ground. Despite the late hour, Bruce can’t rush her; this was important to Mitra, and he wanted her to have that. He almost feels like he’s intruding by just being there, but he knows that if Mitra hadn’t wanted him here, she’d have no problem telling him.

 

So, Bruce waits for her, making sure he stays close so he can be certain of Mitra’s safety while she searched. After about five minutes, Mitra finds a plot of ground she deems acceptable, and she and Bruce start to dig. They use their hands to push away dirt and weeds, and in a short time have a decently sized hole in the earth between them. Carefully, the odd pair set about placing the tree sapling into its new home.

* * *

  

“ _I don’t know why or how I can do that_.” She says suddenly, while they’re patting the dirt down around the small tree they’d planted. “ _Things that are living…I can_ ** _feel_** _them living. I don’t know how to explain…it’s like…_ ”

 

Mitra stops then, lifting her hands from the dirt and flexing her fingers on her lap, as she stares thoughtfully at her upturned palms. Bruce listens quietly as he places his dirty hands on his own lap. He tries to look encouraging, but he’s got no real reference for that, so he just tries to keep a neutral expression instead, while Mitra continues.  

 

“ _I_ _t’s like talking, but… not really? Not really talking at the living thing itself, but–but the thing that…_ **_makes_** _them living. I can tell them to grow, or move, or fix, or …or die. I can tell them without any words, and they do it. I can even do it to myself when I get hurt or if I’m sick._

 

 _"It’s like… I don’t know what it’s like. It just…is.”_ Mitra looks up at him, openly confused _. “Does that make sense?”_

 

It does, in a way; It makes sense that she doesn’t understand powers very well or know how it works. Bruce knows Mitra doesn’t have much control, as evident by her run-in with the old man in the market (which, thankfully, made a lot more sense now, and had nothing to do with _his secrets_ , thank god). And, although he was able to observe what she could do first–hand and make some educated guesses to its workings, even Bruce can’t really say anything for sure about Mitra essentially controlling biological life cycles. If any of this is going to make sense to him, Bruce knew he’d need more information than Mitra really had. Right now, though, he really isn’t concerned about that.

 

Now, he needs to help Mitra. Some things didn’t make sense, right now, but that was okay. He needed her to know that.

 

“… _does it make sense to you?_ ”

 

Her eyes blink rapidly, caught off guard by the question.

 

“ _I don’t know…I… I think it does?”_ She answers uncertainly.

 

 _"And when you 'talk' to these things… and make them do something, does it hurt you? Or effect you any other way?”_ he asks her gently.

 

Mitra slowly shakes her head, her brow furrowed.

 

“ _No, not really._ ” She replies. “ _I mean_ _, once when I used too long, I got a fever, but that’s the only thing._ ”

 

Bruce gives her a nod.

 

“ _Then_ ,” Bruce says, pushing himself onto his feet with a grunt.” _for now, that’s all that matters._ ”

 

He holds his hand out to help her up.

 

she eyes it warily.

 

“ _But_ … _you don’t even know what this is – what I am. I didn’t even tell you what I could do till now. I hurt that man today, and I don’t even know why. You–you didn’t even ask about him! Why aren’t you? Why aren’t you mad, or scared? Are you stupid?! How can you just say that, like it’s––nothing?!”_

 

She’s shouting at him towards the end, confused and angry. She’d been preparing for questions, for suspicion and fear. It couldn’t have been so easy for him to accept what she could do – not when he’d seen the damage that came with it. Mitra didn’t believe him, not even for a moment. He had to be pretending, he had to.

 

Dr. Bruce only shrugs with a tired sigh and smile on his lips. He steps away from the sapling tree, closer to Mitra, and crouches down to meet her eye to eye – speaking to her with compassion and patience.

 

“ _You’re so young, Mitra. I can’t expect you to understand everything that’s happening to you – no one should. It must be terrifying for you to have this power and not know how to control it, or even what it is. I am so sorry you’ve had to deal with it alone, all this time. If you want to make more sense of what that power of yours is, I will help you figure that out._

 

_And, if you don’t want to talk about it ever again, we can do that, too. I’m not going to be mad or upset one way or the other, I promise. The answers aren’t for me to know."_

 

Mitra can only stare up at him, her bottom lip trembling slightly as Bruce speaks softly to her. She’s going to try to argue (because she feels guilty; because she’s different; because life is cruel and even children were sadly distrusting of kindness towards them), but he doesn’t want her to argue, not about this, so he won’t give her the chance.

 

 _“Mitra, it’s ok to not have all the answers, right now; you’ll have plenty of time to find them later. For now, so long as you make sense to_ **_you_** _, then it’s okay.”_

 

With that, the doctor stands and offers his hand again.

 

_“Okay?”_

 

It takes her a little longer to find the courage to take his hand, but eventually, she does, and Bruce lifts the girl to her feet.

 

“Ready?” He asks

 

Mitra looks over her plant one last time, before nodding her head – It was time for them to go home. Bruce still has her hand clasped in his, and Mitra’s eyes are glassy with unbidden tears, but if either of them mind, they choose not say so. A goodnight’s sleep is long overdue, and Mitra and Bruce were both far too tired to care about their usually skyscraper-tall walls being breached. Tomorrow they might remember to keep their distance, to move back and be weary, but tonight the man allowed himself to be close, and the child allowed herself to reach out. Tonight, the two were tired and hopeful and more trusting than they had been in long while, as they walked hand-in-hand in the night.

  
The sapling tree they leave behind in its perfect patch of earth stands proudly under moonlight and stars, waiting quietly for the new day to come – ready for a new beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are getting closer to meeting the Avengers everyone! I can't wait! (I'm putting quotes in chapters, now. I kept forgetting I wanted to do it, but I'm doing it now. I'll be going back and past chapters and putting quotes there also, so have fun with that later, I guess.)
> 
> Comments and/or any other support you can manage is extremely helpful and motivating, so please do so! 
> 
>  
> 
> **Thank you for everything!**


	6. Nothing Stays the Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He's made a horrible mistake."
> 
> Change is a difficult thing, even when it's for the better. Bruce and Mitra learn how to trust each other, and have a little peace.

 

 

* * *

" _All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another." – Anatole France_

* * *

 

He's made a horrible mistake.

Of course, that's not an altogether new occurrence for him (hell, his entire life was basically just one horrible error in judgment after another) though, usually Banner could at least pin down what he did for things to go downhill when they inevitably do. As it was, Bruce can't say for certain why the girl completely shut down on him after she revealed her abilities. At the time, he'd felt confident that he'd handled things fairly well, or at least as well as he could have all things considered. However, by the next morning – after Mitra calmed down and Bruce wasn't nearly so sleep deprived – neither of them is sure where to go from there.

They'd both spent too much time thinking, he guessed later (too much time worrying and wondering and second-guessing _everything_ ). Now, Mitra side-glances him like he's some creeper on the street and Banner can't find the words that might make it all right again (they don't exist, he knows that, but he still looks). The girl looks ready to take off at the first sign of deceit by the doctor, and for his part, Bruce does his best to keep her at ease. Bruce knows better than most what Mitra is feeling – though, admittedly being on the receiving end throws him off some – and as disheartening as it is to find Mitra so distant now, Bruce soon realizes it's only to be expected.

She'd taken a leap of faith in sharing her secret with him, and Bruce could appreciate how terrifying that was even after it's all said and done. So, Mitra keeps away for awhile. She tries to act tough, tries make it seem like her new love for personal space is just because she finds him that annoying, but it's obvious that's not the case. He tries not to take it to heart, tries to be understanding, but none of that makes it sting any less, and Bruce can't help but get a little more closed off as a result.

The good doctor spends more time in the city helping patients than being at home and tries to ignore the uncomfortable silence when he finally makes it home. He finds himself waking up some morning expecting to find an empty bedroll and rifled through kitchen cupboards with Mitra nowhere in sight. He always finds her there, though, sleeping fitfully in the far corner, but he isn't sure if should feel relieved by that or not. They've come full circle – back to those first days of waiting and hoping and gentle interactions. It's difficult and shaky in those weeks of wondering and worrying, but slowly, _slowly,_ the two find steadier ground.

* * *

 

The change is gradual, natural, and Bruce almost doesn't notice the shift. Mitra slowly warms to his presence again; asking those persistent little questions she used to, actually being annoyed with him instead of just playing at it, and _of course the kicking_. They have conversations that devolve into childish bickering, and meals together get much less tense (a relief, since for some reason horrible small talk was something he did now, apparently). Before long, their dynamic has changed all over again, for the better this time.

Soon, Bruce starts taking her to house calls, reasoning that it was safest for the girl to have someone close by when needed. She's not allowed much– mostly she handed him medical tools or cleaned and/or replaced materials – but it's more than Bruce has ever allowed and even Mitra had to admit that. So, she doesn't complain and tries to pay attention as Dr. Banner works so that maybe she can pick up on anything to ask about later. With each passing day, with each moment shared in that tiny place called home, their skyscraper walls are brought down bit by bit.

Bruce starts to notice small things, like the tiny gap between Mitra's front teeth he can see whenever she smiles, or how she skips without really noticing when she's in a good mood. He takes more breaks during his experiments, as doing so seems to mean less physical abuse and a more content Mitra, and quickly figures out that the little girl's more favored dishes are usually the ones he needs to make extra servings of if he wants any leftovers later. It's a simpler way of living, so normal and routine, and it's been so long since Bruce had that kind of comfort. He falls into far too easily, but as much as he should, he can't bring himself to pull away from it.

(He hadn't realized how badly he'd missed it – had never really allowed himself to.)

He's playing that role all over again – the kind doctor, the good man, the protector. It a damn mistake and _he knows this_. Bruce knows that nothing has changed for him– he's still dangerous, still _a monster_ _under the skin and in the bones and in every drop of blood_ – but knowing can't stop him from _wanting_ to be something else, _anything else_ , so long as he isn't _That thing_ that he is. He wants to be a normal again; he wants to be _human_ again even if it's only as a lie. It's selfish and stupid and it's likely going to get people killed ( _but not her. Please, if you're listening in there, you stupid brute, never her_ ), and he wants so badly now take that risk.

He's a selfish man and god, he wants to hate himself for giving in like this.

(He doesn't though, and somehow that makes it worse.)

 

* * *

 

As promised, Bruce never talks about Mitra's powers even in passing and treats her no differently than before he'd found out. Bruce can see her inquisitive stare trying to make sense of him, of his quiet acceptance, but she doesn't ask and Bruce sees no reason to bring it up if she doesn't.

She eventually does, out of nowhere and completely unprompted, (because of course, she does) and Bruce is for some reason more surprised by her execution than the topic.

"I want to learn about my powers!"

With a startled yelp, Dr. Banner fumbles with the petri-dish in his hands and curses under his breath when his elbow bumps an empty vial and it shatters on the floor. He takes a deep breath to steady himself and carefully places the dish back on his work table.

"Mitra…" He says, quiet and irritated. "We've talked about this. You can't just burst in on me like that. It's not… I don't like surprises."

The little girl crosses her arms and rolls her eyes.

"You are always so jumper…"

Bruce bends down to clean up the bits of broken glass. It's going to be forever before he can buy decent replacement…

"You mean ' **jumpy** ' and I'm **not**. I just don't like surprises, is all."

"You are _**jumpy**_." She says while helping him clean. "That's why you break things."

He doesn't bother arguing that bit, because, well, it's a little _too accurate_ if he's being honest.

"You know, you can ask politely for things. I can teach you the words for _please and thank you_ in English. They aren't that hard, and who knows, you might even like using them." He says dryly once they're done.

" **I know the words.** " She responds tartly. " My way is faster. Gets to the pointing."

"Gets to the _**point**_ **.** The suffix -ing doesn't apply to that particular figure of speech."

"Right, right." Mitra ways her hand at him dismissively. "I know all that!"

"Expect you don't…"

"– I want to learn about the thing I do!"

"Well, I'm starting to think we should focus more on your English lessons."

" _ **Dr. Bruce~!**_ " She whines with a pout.

"Okay, okay." He surrenders with a sly smile.

Then, his expression serious and calm and Bruce brings himself to eye level with the girl.

"Are you sure?" His words are firm but his tone is soft, reassuring. "I won't lie to you, Mitra. This might become difficult. I'll have to do tests, take blood samples – basically, I'll being doing a full work up of your physical wellbeing from scratch, that's just to start. If at anytime you don't to want to do this anymore, then we'll forget about the whole thing and leave it alone. You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with. This is all with your permission or not at all."

This is an important decision, and Banner needed her to be certain before helping her do anything. He has no idea what they'll learn or what it will mean for the future, but so long as Mitra wanted, he was willing to move forward. Mitra considers Bruce's words, her expression focused as she weighs the choices in front of her.Then, Mitra looks at the doctor, resolve clear in her eyes and gives him a stiff nod.

Bruce smiles faintly and nods back. "Alright then."

So, with Dr. Bruce supporting her, Mitra begins rediscovering her abilities. Bruce worked meticulously to establish as much information as he could on the girl's physiology, and Mitra began testing the extent of her powers under the doctor's observation. Bruce quickly identified what Mitra ability was, and called it _cellular manipulation._ She hadn't known what that meant, but according to Bruce it was simple; living things were made of cells, like buildings to bricks, and Mitra could control cells and how they worked. Apparently, ordinary people could do the same in labs, but they that needed machines and chemicals and couldn't manipulate cells anywhere near what Mitra could do on her own

(the girl got very smug when he told her that bit.)

That brings up an unexpected argument – Mitra very quickly come to the conclusion that with practice she could _control people_ via their cells, but Bruce immediately rejects the idea. it was apparently "wrong" and "a morally unacceptable abuse of her power," to use it that way and so they fight. Afterward, Mitra scowls about it until dinner time. She grumbles the entire time – something about him being stupid and that she didn't even know how to do that anyway. Bruce chalks that up to childish rebellion and leaves her to her mumbling.

(He's starting to think Mitra just likes being angry. An outrageous idea, at least to him.)

* * *

 

Aside from all that, the peaceful life they'd come to share in that tiny shack at the far end of the city stays relatively the same. Mitra's training is just another thing between them, a secret they hid together from the world. Bruce has all but forgotten his quest for Mitra's new home, and the young girl placed all her focus learning anything she could from him. Along with that, she also became increasingly protective of Banner at some point. He had no idea when or why, but after a while, it kind of became obvious the girl took care of him more so than the other way around.

Mitra nagged at him to eat regularly and yelled at him when he lost track of time and didn't sleep for long periods. She'd snap at anyone she considered rude to the doctor, or glare people down if they so much as looked at either of them the wrong way. Bruce didn't know how he was supposed to react.

"You know you don't have to take care of me, right?" He says mildly one day over lunch.

Mitra looked up from her meal, looking confused.

"I'm a grown up," Bruce says reassuringly. "You don't to worry about me so much. I'm fine."

To his surprise, Mitra snorts and give him the most unimpressed look she can muster.

"Dr. Bruce, you are the most hopeless grown up I ever seen. You forget to eat or to sleep, or even to bathe. Yesterday, you forgot your medical bag and made it halfway to your next house call before you even noticed! I was the one that brought it to you! Are you really going to tell me you are fine on your own?"

"Well, I mean…" He flounders for a minute." That could happen to anyone. And it's… just when I'm working and lose track–"

She cuts him off with a long sigh.

"Ok, I will make this simple." She sets down her spoon with a blank stare. "What day is it today?"

"Oh.…" He hadn't been expecting a test.

Mitra raises an eyebrow expectantly. It's painfully quiet for a good thirty seconds while Dr. Banner scrambles for the correct answer.

(Not for the first time, he thinks that a child shouldn't be capable of look so intimidating.)

"…Tuesday?"

"It's Friday." She says without missing a beat. "You have been guessing it was Tuesday for three days now."

"Oh…"

"You are very smart Dr. Bruce, but you are a mess. So, I will make sure you are fine, and you can go be a doctor and do your science things and not have to worry. Ok? Ok."

Bruce stares at her in disbelief. Mitra takes a long sip from her cup of water.

"Well?" The girl bites out impatiently. "What are you waiting for? Hurry up and eat, before your food gets cold!"

And that ends that conversation.

It should have been annoying having an aggressive, mini-mother-hen at his heels all the time, but Bruce just finds it amusing and more than little sweet. It's a nice feeling; having someone like that again. He hadn't had another person looking out for him – making sure he ate and slept and didn't stay in his own head for too long – in some time. He thinks of Betty, for the first time in a long time, and wonders what she might think of him being coddled by a scary little girl like Mitra. She'd probably laugh, he thinks, and he'd probably join her.

(The thought of her still hurts, but a little less than before.)

It's a charmed life – or at least, the closest he'd ever come to one, being that he's a dangerous fugitive with unstable physiology and _lots_ of issues besides. It's not glamorous or really even all that nice, but Bruce wants to keep it for as long as he can. He doesn't care anymore that it's a lie; he just wants to live it a little while longer and be good and get told off by Mitra and help people who need it even when he can't help himself. Just for a while longer, he wants it to be alright.

(But of course, it all goes to shit. Of course, he can't have even this.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … I'm sorry that I drop the ball basically right after I said I wouldn't. I'm just gonna say that this year has been shitty, and it got even shittier in the beginning of November, and everything just kept going not the way I wanted it to. I cut five paragraph off this – paragraphs that I worked really hard on and then realized didn't fit with the rest of what I'd planned and would take up too much time in the story. (I hate writing. I hate it and I hate that I love it.) So I had to rewrite a lot just for this chapter to get done because I WAS NOT GOING TO STILL BE DOING THIS IN 2017, GODDAMIT.
> 
> …
> 
> I did it, though. Yay! And good news I will be doing a side story of Small Hands! Hooray, more work for me! (Why do I hurt myself like this?) So, this will mainly consist of scenes cut from Small Hands, Domestic Avengers + Mitra stories, and AU's involving Small Hands universe. Of course, the scenes I cut from this chapter will be posted there also, so if you curious about that feel free to come read. The sid-story will be titled Idle Hands and will be in my published works very soon. I hope that makes up for the wait! 
> 
> Any and all feedback is appreciated. Thank you!


	7. Sudden Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce meets a Black Widow, and she carries word of catastrophe. 
> 
> (Also Mitra needs to really think before she acts.)

* * *

" _Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn’t go away.” – Philip K. Dick_

* * *

 

Things… well, they got out of hand.

 

For once it isn’t his fault  _(or at least, he was pretty sure it isn’t, anyway),_ and it isn’t as if Bruce or Mitra had been doing anything out of the ordinary for them. They’d only been heading home after work; Mitra carrying his bag by the handle with both hands and insisting she didn’t need help despite struggling to keep it off the ground, and Bruce humoring her for the sake her pride. Then, without warning, Mitra is knocked to the ground with a yelp, and a scrawny boy, a little older than her, snatches up the bag while Mitra hit the ground. Bruce shouts her name in surprise and quickly bends down to help Mitra to her feet.

 

Mitra ignores his assistance, though, as she stands up on her own and smears dirt on her face as she tries to wipe it off. Mitra directs her attention and fury completely towards the boy, who looked to have stopped running just to see his target hit the dirt, mocking her just feet away. The little girl is seething, and Banner had a good idea of what was about to happen.

 

“ _Mitra…”_ The doctor tried.“ _he’s not worth it. Let’s just… take a deep breath, and–”_

 

**“** ** _Give that back, you shit!”_   **Mitra screeched, balling her fists and shaking with fury.

 

Still kneeling by her, Bruce lets his head fall with a long breath – well, he tried.

 

“ _What? You want this?”_ The boy calls out coyly.

 

He dangles the bag out to her with his left hand, shaking it around a bit to goad her on all the more. If possible, Mitra looked even angrier. Bruce felt like he was watching a car wreck in slow motion.

 

“ _Come and take it, **stupid bitch**_ ** _._** _”_ The kid spits out.

 

Bruce doesn’t have time to really process the boy’s words because Mitra immediately takes off after him with a roar, and the boy is running off and laughing like it’s all some game. Bruce runs after Mitra, trying to match the children’s mad-dash run and quick reflexes to avoid people on the street. (Lord, children were athletic.  _How in the hell were they so_ _fast?_ ) Even from the distance between them, Bruce could hear Mitra screaming threats and profanities at the thief here and there, and he hopes he gets to Mitra before she caught up with that poor kid.

 

The three race through city’s back alleys at a feverish pace, the world passing them by without a glance, and in no time Bruce finds that the young thief has led them to a deserted block just outside city limits. The streets are eerily quiet, with only the echoes of their rushed footsteps to disrupt the unnatural stillness. Nevertheless, it isn’t until the young boy runs straight into the only lit house in the neighborhood and drops the stolen bag haphazardly near the doorstep, that Bruce slows down in alarm and suspicion. Mitra, on the other hand, skids to a stop in front of the bag and her rage morphs to confusion as she begins to inspect the bag. As she looks it over for anything that might have been taken or damaged, Bruce catches up to her and looks warily at the home they stood before.

 

“Mitra… I don’t know if–”

 

“He–he didn’t take anything?!” Mitra tells with clear disbelief and annoyance. “ _He made me chase him this whole time, and didn’t even take anything?! Really?!”_

 

“Wait. Mitra–!” Bruce called out to her, but it was already too late.

 

Her anger returned in full force, and she drops the bag again and rushes into the house to find the would–be–thief. Bruce follows quickly behind the child, hoping he could stop Mitra from causing any more trouble. He found her in the first room, standing next to a large wooden cradle and facing away from him, looking at something out of his sight.  

 

“ _Mitra!_ _Mitra, you can’t just run into someone else’s house! It’s not–”_

 

**“Who are you?”** Mitra’s hard and distrusting voice stops him short.

 

With dread chilling his insides, Banner turns quietly to the person Mitra is scowling at. A woman appears from behind a red sheer curtain on the far side of the small house.  

 

“Nobody important.” The woman replies softly, her voice low and alluring. “Just a friend.”

 

She is an obvious foreigner; tall, light skinned, and statuesque with a crown of shockingly scarlet curls cut to just the length of her chin. With striking facial features and green eyes like steel, her modest clothing–a simple dark, sleeveless dress and a thin, red shawl–is a severe contrast to the natural elegance she couldn’t hope to conceal. She was no ordinary woman by any means, and although Bruce’s expression remained neutral, his heart sank as his mind came to the conclusion he’d been afraid of.

 

His time was up.

 

“Mitra,” Bruce addresses the girl calmly, his eyes fixed on the redhead. “I need you to head back home without me now, ok. I’ll catch up.”

 

“What?” Mitra turns up to look at him in surprise. “But–”

 

Bruce places a hand on her shoulder with a firm grip. He doesn’t look at her, but the touch is enough to stop whatever else she might say.

 

“I’ll be there soon.” He says, glancing down briefly in reassurance. “I promise.”

 

The girl watches him for a moment, not ready to give in, but unsure of what else she could do instead. Eventually, Mitra turns to glare as menacingly as she possibly can at the mysterious woman from across the room, before reluctantly walking out of the old home. The woman watches her go, her expression a mixture of amusement and pleasant surprise.

 

“You know,” She starts casually. “for a man who's supposed to be avoiding stress, you picked a hell of a place to settle.”

 

She tilts her head towards the door Mitra left through, her implication obvious.

 

“Avoiding stress isn't the secret,” Bruce says simply, with a wry smile.

  
“Then, what is it? Yoga?” Despite her unreadable expression, the redhead sounded almost playful.

  
“You brought me to the edge of the city, smart.” ignoring the question, Bruce wrings his hands habitually while looking through a nearby window. “I uh... assume the whole place is surrounded?”

 

The woman casually discards her shawl and walks leisurely towards him.

 

“Just you and me.” she answers easily.

 

She’s trying to put him at ease – giving a pretense of civility and calm to show him there was nothing to fear.

 

(She was a decent actress, he’d give her that.)

 

“And that little snatch and grab with the kid earlier – is he a spy, too? Do they start that young?”

  
“I did.” her lips quirk up a bit and she bows her head as if to hide it. “Actually, I was little younger than him, to be honest.”

“Who are you?” Bruce immediately directs.

 

He wasn’t going to indulge her little act – he was in no mood for it. The upward turn of her lips disappear immediately, and the redhead seems to pick up quickly that she needed a different approach.

 

“Natasha Romanoff.” She stated coolly.

 

Miss. Romanoff straightens her stance as the name leaves her lips, and nonchalance is replaced by cool professionalism with barely a moment passing between the shifting in character.

 

“Are you here to kill me, Miss Romanoff?” He asks mildly. “Because that's not gonna work out for everyone.”

 

His voice is steady and passive, but his warning is clear as day. Lord knew Bruce didn’t want to fight, didn’t want to hurt anyone, but he also knew he wouldn’t have a choice in the matter when it came down to it.

 

“No. No. Of course not.” Miss Romanoff dismisses as if the very notion was absurd. “I'm here on behalf of SHIELD.”

 

The name surprises him, but not by much. While SHIELD might not have been the first on the list of people trying to kill or use him, they were certainly always a possibility he’d considered.  

 

“SHIELD…” the name rolls off his tongue slow and unpleasant. “How’d they find me?”

 

“We never lost you, doctor,” Natasha replies stoically. “We've kept our distance, even helped keep some other interested parties off your scent.”

 

“Why?”

 

Even to his own ears, he sounded exasperated, but he didn’t care.

 

“Nick Fury seems to trust you.” Natasha replies, just a hint of admiration in her voice.“But now we need you to come in.”

 

She wanted him to come in? Expected him to show up when summoned? Did SHEILD really think he’d come to them so simply, after all of this time? Banner could almost find that funny if it wasn’t so insulting. He was curious, though, to what exactly Natasha Romanoff thought she was doing here. To face him like this and think he’d cooperate; what would make them take such a gamble? He’d have to see how things played out for an answer to that.

 

“What if I said no?”

 

“I'll persuade you.” she says with a tiny smirk.

 

Bruce gives a slight nod.

 

“And what if the... other guy says no?”

 

What would she do, he wondered, if the Other Guy decided it was better to break her in two rather than help SHIELD? He had a good idea what the answer would be.

 

“You've been more than a year without an incident, Dr. Banner. I don't think you wanna break that streak.” Natasha replies flippantly.

 

Anyone else might have been surprised by how unfazed she seemed – how she could brush off such a dangerous possibility. Try as she might, though, there was no hiding that familiar look in her eyes from the doctor; she was trying to reassure herself as much as him.

 

“I don't always get what I want,” he tells her, playing idly with the large cradle at his side.

 

(He rarely got what he wanted, actually. Once, a long time ago, he’d wanted a life. Once, he’d wanted a cure for his  _condition._ Now, Bruce wanted to be left alone, and pretend for just a little while longer. He rarely got what he wanted.)

 

Romanoff walks over to the far center of the room to a small wood table with a black cell phone on its surface.

 

“Doctor, we're facing a potential global catastrophe,” Natasha announces, breaking him from his thoughts.

 

Bruce chuckles dryly.

 

“Well, those I actively try to avoid.” He tells her ruefully.

 

She quickly looks through the phone on the table and pulls up a photo.

 

“This is the Tesseract. It has the potential energy to wipe out the planet.”

 

Bruce pulls out his reading glasses, taking the phone and closely examining the picture on the screen. Generically speaking, the image is not particularly odd; a cube-shaped object just a little larger than your average paperweight. The object’s frigid shade of blue and streaks of white was an entirely different matter, however. Even through the stilled photo, the blue and white shades seemed to swirl and pulse with the object’s – the _Tesseract’s_ – power, and it looked almost as if the cube itself was the only thing keeping the energy confined.

 

( _What the hell_ did SHIELD expect him to do with  _that?_ )

 

“What does Fury want me to do? Swallow it?”

“He wants you to find it,” Romanoff informs him while taking a seat at the table. “It's been taken. It emits a gamma signature that's too weak for us to trace. There's no one that knows gamma radiation like you do. If there was, that's where I'd be.”

 

Bruce removes his glasses swiftly, eyeing Natasha critically for signs of deception.

 

“So, Fury isn't after the monster?” Bruce inquires skeptically.

 

“Not that he's told me.” she answers quietly.

 

Bruce looks at her doubtfully.

 

“And he tells you everything?”

 

“Talk to Fury,” she tells him instead. “he needs you on this.”

 

“He needs me in a cage?” He asks with a slight tinge of hostility coating his words.

 

Alarmed, Natasha tries to settle him down before his irritation worsened.

 

She began to reach out her hand in comfort. “No one's gonna put you in a…”

 

_Then, two clenched fists hit the table––_

 

**_“STOP LYIN’ TO ME!!"_**

 

_––and the once passive doctor is in front of her with red fury written boldly on his face._

 

The gun fastened to the underside of the table is in Bruce’s face within the blink of an eye, and Natasha stands unflinchingly before him, finger on the trigger and ready to act. There was no hesitation to be seen here – Natasha would shoot him without a second thought and they both knew it. Bruce lifts himself up from the table smoothly, his expression apologetic and maybe a little amused. His arms slowly come up in a sign of surrender.

 

“I'm sorry.” Bruce says somewhat bashfully, “That was mean. I just wanted to see what you'd do. Why don't we do this the easy way, where you don't use that, and the other guy doesn't make a mess? Okay? Natasha…”

 

Romanoff doesn’t relax her stance or move her trigger finger. She simply waits, her breathing harsh but steady and her gaze focused on Dr. Banner, bracing herself for whatever happens now.

 

“ ** _LEAVE HIM ALONE!!”_ **

 

_Regardless, she was caught unprepared._

 

She had barely registered the scream of a child before what looked like vines, thick and thorny, whipped up from under the table and twisted around her arms and shoulders. Her hands are swallowed up in green foliage, and the gun she’d held so tightly to was lost along with them. Then, Natasha is pulled roughly on the table and the vines tighten around the wood and secure the bound woman with arms positioned above her bowed head as if in prayer; all while facing a wide-eyed and slack-jawed Bruce Banner. Natasha stared at the wood in her face as beads of sweat slipped down her face –she hadn’t even had time to scream.

 

_What the fuck just happened?_

 

“Mitra!” Bruce finally manages to gasp out. “What– what did you– What are doing here?! I–I told to go home! Oh my god, how did you even manage––”

 

The girl in question can’t stop staring at the green vines currently detaining the redhead. She walks closer, mouth gaping like a fish as she tries to speak. Clearly, She as surprised by what happened as nearly everyone else.

 

“I don know!” Mitra shouts. “I see you, and I see lady red and the–the ARGH!!

 

She clutched at her head in frustration. She didn’t know the English word for  ** _banduka_** , and she was too panicked to even think straight, much less use a foreign language. So, she changes the subject.

 

“ _And what about you!”_ Mitra shouts suddenly at Bruce in Bengal. “ _I_ _leave you alone for a few minutes and you almost get killed! What did you do?”_

 

The doctor sputters, clearly affronted by the accusation.

 

“ _What I did I do–? You were supposed to go home! This has nothing to do with you in the first place."_

 

“HEY!!” Comes another voice to their right.

 

Turning, the two look to see Natasha, still awkwardly on the table top and very annoyed with how quickly they’d forgotten her.

 

“…I’d hate to interrupt this **thrilling discussion** ,” She yells out with a hiss. “But these vines aren’t exactly made of silk here.”

 

Natasha turns her head to level them with a well-practiced glare of her own.

 

“Get me out of this. Now.”

 

“Ah…” Bruce combed his hair back with nervous fingers. “Right. Just a second.”

 

(How she managed to intimidate while bent over a table? He was certain he was better off not knowing.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Banduka** – gun
> 
> Trying to write a scene that already exists is both helpful and painfully difficult. On the one hand, it's a helpful guide, on the other hand, making creative decisions becomes that much harder. I decided to use a more introspective approach, along with some other obvious changes in the beginning, so as to avoid a carbon copy of the original scene. The end of the chapter was completely unexpected – I thought of it as I was writing, and then immediately tried to write it in a careful manner when I realized how it might be misinterpreted as sexual. I hope I accomplished that.
> 
> I really appreciate everyone's patience. I don't know when I'll finish the next chapter, but I will do my best to get it done as soon as I can.
> 
> Comments and any other kinds of support are welcome. **Thank you for all your support!**


	8. Who Are You Really?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or _Negotiations_
> 
> They were strangers, and what little the agent knew of him had come from classified files and likely terrifying military footage.
> 
> (suspicions run high, as negotiations continue. Mitra's future and Bruce's choices will shape whatever comes next.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Chapter's title and quote are based on the song, "Who Are You, Really?" By Mikky Ekko, from his 2010 EP, Reds._

 

* * *

 

" _So, you're feeling tied up to a sense of control,_  
And make decisions that you think are your own  
You are a stranger here; why have you come?

— _Mikky Ekko_

* * *

"Sorry. This is going to sting."

Natasha barely shrugs.

"I've had worse."

With Mitra's help, Bruce managed to get her free of the vines, though it had taken some patience and careful maneuvering so as not to injure the redheaded agent too much. Thankfully, not all of the plants were barbed, so the damage was manageable – most of Natasha's wounds being shallow and focused mainly on her hands, though many were still open and bleeding. Now, Natasha carefully laid her hands on the table she'd been tied to earlier, as Bruce patiently removed foreign debris from her wounds with a pair of tweezers.

"I'm sorry about this," Bruce tells her as he pulls out another splinter. "Things sort of… got out of hand."

Romanoff gives another stiff shrug.

"I wasn't exactly expecting smooth sailing, anyway." she replied flippantly.

"Oh, Of that, Miss Romanoff, I am well aware."

A fully armed tactical squad in the shadows surrounding the tiny house spoke volumes on its own, after all. Natasha hadn't bothered to hide her backup, quickly making contact, reassuring them of her safety, and commanding them to stand down. Bruce wasn't surprised that she'd lied before about the two of them alone, even if it was disappointing – all things considered, he hardly blamed her. It was a bitter reminder – but a relief, all the same – knowing that she'd come more prepared than he'd first assumed. He tells himself that it's actually better than the two of them alone (safer) even if it left him feeling caged and suffocated even now.

Nevertheless, knowing that if he had taken just a little longer undoing her bindings would have meant having highly dangerous, armed men coming to take him down left him feeling, in his opinion, justifiably irked.

"If it's any consolation," Natasha says with a bit of humor. "My expectations were wrong, either way."

Despite himself, Bruce let out a surprised snort. "Yeah. Mitra tends to have that effect on people."

He says this fondly, sounding strangely nostalgic and pleasantly defeated at the same time. Natasha eyes Dr. Banner critically while he and lost himself to memory.

"You knew she could do that."

(It isn't a question.)

Bruce pauses, breath bated and actions halted mid-motion.

"I knew that she had **abilities** ," he explains to the agent, going back to work. "But this is the first time she's done something of this scale. It's no wonder she doing so badly, right now."

The pair grimace as the distant sound of loud retching outside reached their ears.

"So, she doesn't always lose her lunch after using her powers?" Romanoff asks with an arched brow.

After her adrenaline had worn off, Mitra had become pale and dizzy. Within a few minutes, the poor thing only barely made it to a nearby bush outside before vomiting on its branches. Bruce had wanted to help, but she refused to be coddled in front of the strange woman in their midst. She stayed out there now, dry heaving every now and then while waiting for the ill feeling to pass.

"No," Bruce finished cleaning away the blood from her wounds."That's new. Although, since she was panicking, I'm fairly certain she hadn't planned for any of what's happened, much less getting so sick."

"And, you didn't know?"

"No, like I said she's never done something like this before." Bruce gently takes her hand from the table, wrapping it in gauze with practiced ease.

Romanoff watches with interest as he tends to her.

"And what about her family?

He glances at her, a bit confused.

"She…uh doesn't have any – not anymore. It's why she with me." He answers hesitantly.

"An orphan, then…poor thing, it must be awful for her." She sounds appropriately sympathetic, but Bruce finds himself skeptical for some reason.

"Yes, it's been difficult for her." He replies. "But Mitra is a strong girl. She's coped better than most adults would in her shoes."

"Do you know how she got her powers?"

"No, according to her, she's had them nearly all her life."

"According to her?"

Something in the way she asks (something in her tone, or maybe just her curiosity in general, really, because she doesn't seem like the 'just curious' type) has Banner stop wrapping the gauze midway, and look Romanoff in the eye. Her expression is as unreadable as ever, but Natasha's eyes and the stiffness her shoulders tell him enough (he's certainly seen it enough). Bruce can take a guess on what she might be thinking right then, but as with seemingly everything else about this woman so far, he can't be certain.

"Yes," Bruce replies slowly, searching her facial features for some idea of what this woman is thinking. "Mitra never knew her father. And her mother died not too long ago. She was the only other person who knew."

Natasha says nothing, staying still and entirely too focused on him. Bruce quickly finishes up with her hand and starts to dress the other. The air is uncomfortable and charged between them, but neither of them moves to address it.

"…You're sure she has no other family?" she asks quietly.

He doesn't look up.

"I'm sure."

"…And, how did her mother die?"

"Illness." the doctor says stoically. "She was sick for a long time."

She hums in return, and the silence between them stays for what feels like hours before Natasha breaks it again.

"Why does she have powers, Doctor?"

The agent asks the question, already expecting what answer might be given. It isn't an accusation – Miss. Romanoff isn't nearly so straightforward – but the implication is there, hanging between them like a noose ready and waiting for Banner to hang himself with.

"I don't know, Miss Romanoff," He responds a few moments later, his tone restrained and careful."But, whatever you're implying, I can tell you right now, that **you're wrong**."

Bruce pulls and fasten the bandage, noticeably tighter than he had earlier, and quickly stalks away. Natasha rubs at her bound hands, her eyes following his back for any sign of the good doctor losing control. She wasn't going to fall for another one his _stunts._

"You know I can't just leave it at that." She stands slowly and her arms crossed, mindful of her movements. "You can't expect me to believe that you stumbled on to a child with dangerous, unexplained powers just by chance. Nothing is that simple, doctor – I would think you of all people would know that."

Bruce tips his head back in exasperation with a cold chuckle.

"Oh trust me, Miss. Romanoff, I know exactly how complicated this world is…"

"And you still wanna stick with that? Someone of your history just happening on a little orphan girl who can control plants?"

"That's not accurate…" he mutters.

He wrings his hands, still not facing her.

"What's not accurate?" She asks.

"Everything you're assuming." Bruce snaps, turning back to her with a glare.

She takes a step back, still ready to attack– still rightfully afraid. She wonders if the gun on the table will still work for her purposes. Banner brings a hand to his forehead – this was all so taxing.

"I know what you **think** ," He grounds out in frustration. "But, Mitra and what she can do – what I am and what you're after? None of it is related, so stop acting like it is and leave her out of this."

" **But, she is related**. She was the moment she became involved with you." The agent pointed out.

The doctor has nothing to say against that. Bruce bowed his head, part of him feeling shame. It's a fact he's known from the beginning but had become fairly used to ignoring it at every turn. It was a mistake – one he'd stopped noticing for awhile now.

"…She doesn't concern SHIELD." He argues weakly.

"She does, and you know it," Natasha says coldly. "Even if your association with her is what you say, her powers make her SHIELD business. And I can't ignore that even under current circumstances."

But even while she speaks, Bruce is fervently shaking his head in denial.

" She's a little girl! Not some –– threat to society, dammit! I'm not going to let SHIELD or anyone else near––!"

"You tried to prove yourself once, doctor."

Disbelief is all the doctor can process at first – all he can really register as he stares down the cold statue of a woman before him – standing stock still with eyes wide and mid-sentence ( _because, how dare she say that to him, how dare she…!_ ). He turns away, outraged, and paces around just for something to do other than try to hit something. Romanoff doesn't bat an eye, though – she watches him, as she done all evening, while he paces around in agitation – she just calmly continues.

"You tried to create superhuman abilities once before, and we both know what the consequences were for you. We know you've been trying to cure yourself. You've gone to a lot of trouble to reach that goal, and people have gotten caught up in your search before. Is it really such a stretch for me to think you might be trying something different with her?"

"No… no, that's not it." He absently rubs at the stubble on his face before giving a frigid smile. "What you're really asking – what you're really saying – is it really such a stretch to think that the monster could do something so inhuman? Isn't that right?"

To that Natasha is silent, and Bruce nods, a cynical smirk still on his lips. He hadn't expected anything less. Bruce paces a bit more and then faces her again with mocking disbelief.

"…And, you want me to help **you**?"

She glares at him but again says nothing, and Bruce isn't sure if he should feel vindicated or miserable. Natasha takes a minute, but she quickly gets back to the matter at hand.

"Look, I'm not here to pass judgment on you–"

"Oh well then, you definitely do a great job of multitasking."

"–I'm here for something more important than you, Dr. Banner." She pressed on with cool urgency. "Right now, a dangerous man is currently in possession of an object capable of annihilating the world and everyone on it – including that girl."

Natasha watches Bruce with carefully crafted perception, cataloging his body language as he contemplates what's at stake. She can see his mind turning, see his doubts and hesitation. Banner is torn as to what he should do, whether he could really trust what she's saying, and what he'd be losing one way or the other. He was a man who seemed to have nothing to gain and so precious little to lose, and a part of her understood that more she'd ever be willing to admit.

"I… am sorry for accusing you."

Banner pulls his attention back to her in surprise. Natasha looked uncomfortable as if the act of apologizing left her too exposed for her liking, but she seemed sincere all the same.

"But, after what just happened," She continues, her expression unreadable once more. "I'm sure you can understand why I couldn't ignore what's in front of me."

Looking at her then, Bruce begins to think more clearly than before. It was understandable, he realizes, for her to come to the conclusions she had. They were strangers, and what little the agent knew of him had come from classified files and likely terrifying military footage. Romanoff suspicions made sense from where they stood – he'd just never realized how his time with Mitra might have looked from the outside until now. He didn't like it, not at all, but his anger cooled somewhat with the understanding that he'd have likely thought the same in her shoes.

"I'm not here to walk you to the gallows, Dr. Banner," Natasha says gently. "and I'm not here to question what you might or might not have done under the radar. I'm here to help keep the world spinning, but that can't happen if SHIELD doesn't have you."

The scene seems frozen in place – Bruce and Natasha staring each other down and holding their breaths for the next act of their strained encounter. After a minute or two, Bruce breaks contact to rub at his face in thought. He moves to lean against a close-by wall, and then he takes long, exhausted breath.

"…If SHIELD doesn't have me, huh?" he repeats quietly, as if thinking aloud.

"You're a brilliant man Dr. Banner – an asset, with or without the Other Guy," She assures him. "I told you before, if there was anyone else with the knowledge you had, I wouldn't be here."

Her praise has him slumping further on to the wall, his eyes closed and inhaling deeply through his nose before letting the air out in a long sigh.

"If I do this," he finally speaks, eyes still closed. "If I help SHIELD with this, Then you have to promise me something."

Natasha caught on quickly.

"SHIELD won't leave the girl be. It's protocol, and not even Fury would be willing to make an exception considering her capabilities."

His shoulders tense.

" **But** ," Natasha stresses, and the man pauses. "We can keep her safe – monitor her from a distance like we did with you. SHIELD can allow her some semblance of normal, without potentially compromising her safety or that of anyone else's as result of her abilities."

Banner runs his hands over his face and hair. He tilts his head to the ceiling, taking another deep breath before finally seeming to come to a decision. He meets Romanoff's gaze once again, his eyes hard and unrelenting.

"SHIELD will not hurt her." He declares with a low and dangerous tone, straightening and stepping towards her. "Mitra will not become some guinea pig or **operative** for SHIELD to use and throw aside. She deserves a life, and **I will not let you people take that from her**."

"I promise you." Natasha stands her ground before him. "SHIELD will do everything in its power to keep the girl safe."

"Mitra."

She arches an eyebrow in confusion.

"Yes, I know," she says with a tilt of her head.

"No," he brings himself closer, just within her personal space.

Natasha feels a resurgence of panic. Her battered hand reflexively moves for the gun on the table, but to her surprise, the doctor moves as well and takes her forearm before she can do so. His grip isn't tight enough to hurt – nor is it enough to stop her if she really wanted to get away – but the move so uncharacteristic of the man she been to talking to all evening that all she can bring herself to do is look at him, waiting for the reason behind the action.

"Her name," He says to her. "Is Mitra Hazra. She's eight years old. She wants to be a doctor someday. She's never been to school, but you won't find a sharper kid out there. She acts too grown up for her own good and is far too stubborn to ever take no for an answer. "

Confusion lifts from the agent's features with dawning realization.

"She is the bravest little girl you will ever meet. Her name is Mitra." Bruce repeats. "Remember that."

He lets her go slowly, and she pulls herself back a few steps to a comfortable distance.

"…Okay." Natasha nods slowly, a smile ghosting her lips for only a moment. "Mitra Hazra – I will make sure she's safe."

Bruce nods, and tension gradually falls from his body. For now, her words were enough.

"Dr. Bruce?" the agent and doctor both look to the doorway to find a drowsy looking Mitra, rubbing her eyes and still looking a bit pale. "Dr. Bruce, can we go home now?

"Mitra!" Bruce rushed over to her worriedly, kneeling before the child. "Hey, hey, how are you feeling? Any better?"

He fuzzed over the little girl, checking her for fever or injuries, while she whined and tried to bat his hands away in annoyance with little success. Although she doesn't show it outwardly, Natasha is thrown off by the sight – a moment ago, this man had been a quiet storm of fury, looking ready take down the agent at any time. Now, Dr. Banner looked like he wanted to encase this eight year old in bubble wrap to ensure her safety, like some nervous mother hen. A part of her wants to laugh, but between the strained negotiation moments ago and surprise of the oddly wholesome scene before her, Natasha didn't have the energy for anything more than a slight smile.

"Dr. Bruce, I want to go now. I don't feeling good, and red lady's friends outside are weird!"

Bruce tries to stop himself from grimacing, and Natasha looks away guiltily. They probably shouldn't have left her out there, what with the armed men and all…

"I just need to straighten a few more things out, and we'll go home, ok? Just be little more patient for me."

"Actually doctor," Natasha interrupts, eyes on the phone she now had in her injured hands. "We're a little behind schedule here. We need to move out right away."

"What? I can't just leave right now! What about Mitra?!" Bruce exclaims.

" _What?! You're leaving?! To where?! What's happening?!_ " Mitra shrieks, suddenly wide awake.

"We're all going," Natasha answers nonchalantly, ignore the girl's cries. "A jet is waiting to take us to our rendezvous point. Your clothing and personal items are already being taken care of."

"What the hell are talking about?! Mitra isn't coming, it's too dangerous!" Bruce protests.

The girl is immediately affronted.

"What you mean I not come? I want to come! Where are you **going?!** "

"We don't have the luxury of waiting, doctor," Romanoff reminds him, wrapping her discarded shawl around her shoulders. "Fury needs you as soon as possible, and Ms. Hazra needs to be taken in to ensure her safety."

Elegant as ever, Natasha walks past the two to the front door, and Bruce anxiously follows with Mitra at his heels.

"See! I come too!" Mitra exclaims excitedly, only to pause. "But, wait! Where we going?! Why we leaving?! Dr. Bruce?! **LADY**?!"

Mitra lagged behind, as they walked at fast pace outside, the tactical team acting as an escort to the odd trio. Bruce quickly picks Mitra up to save time, the child squawking indignantly as she's taken in his arms. Mitra struggles and whines to be let down, but Bruce pays her no mind – focusing only on the red-crowned woman ahead of them.

"Fine," Bruce conceded. "But, we aren't done here. I want to talk to Fury about my conditions before anything else. I don't care what's at stake – I won't help unless I have that guarantee."

Natasha smirks, not looking back at him.

"Careful, doctor." She called behind her. "given what **is** at stake, that might almost sound inhuman to anyone else."

A bitter smile comes to the Banner's lips.

"We wouldn't want that now, would we," Bruce mutters sarcastically.

Black and unmarked SUVs come into view before them, and Bruce braces himself for what's to come. His reprieve from reality had come to an end all too soon.

Mitra is still yelling and struggling in his arms. " _ **STOP IGNORING ME!**_ "

Well, at least he wasn't the only one already fed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a lot harder then it should have been. On the one hand, I feel like I'm just padding the story. On the other hand, how the hell am I just going to shoehorn a little kid into a top-secret and dangerous mission to save the world without explanation? On another note, I only realized while writing how suspicious Dr. Banner and Mitra's relationship would look to a SHIELD agent. The man who experimented on himself for the sake of his research just happens to be living with a super-powered child? I almost felt it'd be unrealistic for someone as intelligent as Bruce not to have realized something so obvious.
> 
> So, things are finally picking up. Hopefully, I can get the next chapter quickly. Captain America meets Mitra, and no, she's not impressed.
> 
>  
> 
> **Any and all support is appreciated. Thank you for reading!**


	9. O Captain! My Captain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The world had changed so much while he’d slept in the ice, but, in a lot of ways, not how he’d hoped."
> 
> Steve Rogers takes on a mission to the world, meeting enchanting assassins, odd scientists, and –
> 
>  
> 
> __  
> **Is that a little girl?!**  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Title Details:** The title of this chapter is from the famous poem, "O Captain! My Captain!" by Walt Whitman, though you may also recognize it from the movie _Dead Poet's Society_ starring the late Robin Williams. The poem is about the death of a captain just before he reaches his home, and his crew mourns his loss as they reach port. I felt this fit Steve, who helped win the war, but never got see the end for himself.

_"True heroism is remarkably sober, very undramatic. It is not the urge to surpass all others at whatever cost, but the urge to serve others at whatever cost." – Arthur Ashe_

* * *

 

Before he was going on rogue rescue missions in Italy and beating back Hydra bases in the south of France, Brooklyn native Steve Rogers hadn't thought he'd do much with his life. Back then, he was some skinny little kid with pennies to his name and a helluva lot to prove. When he was pushed, he pushed right back, and when he was down, he got back up – or at least he tried his damnedest to, anyway. His stubborn streak could only push his frail body so far, and more often than not either his lungs or his limbs gave out long before it was all said and done. Becoming stronger – being a soldier; a hero; Captain America – had been more than that skinny punk from Brooklyn had ever dreamed, so even if he didn't make it to the end of the war, he'd been grateful with that.

He had peace with that.

It's ironic – and so _, so_ cruel – to find he was the last one standing in the end. Bucky, Dugan, Gabe, Dernier; all of them were dead and gone in what felt like a blink of an eye to him. Peggy–his best girl– was still here, but he couldn't even bring himself to find her and see what might have been – what he wishes he still had. They'd won the war and stopped Hydra and the Nazis, but for Steve, it hadn't really mattered. He was still here, still fighting a war, still so far from home – still Captain America.

Steve hadn't wanted to be a soldier forever – he'd only wanted to do what was right, to help people – but by now he wasn't sure he knew another way to live. Being a soldier – fighting the good fight and giving out orders, boots on the ground and shield in hand –was the only thing that felt familiar to him in this new age. The world had changed so much while he'd slept in the ice, but, in a lot of ways, not how he'd hoped. So he just kept fighting, like he always did, because he needed something that made sense – something that he could grasp to keep him sane.

And Captain America was one of the few things that still made sense.

So, when Director Fury had come to him with a mission, he didn't hesitate. He had a mission to complete, and right now that was all that mattered. Steve had arrived on SHIELD's state-of-the-art warship at mid-morning, not knowing what to expect aside from the familiarity of drill sergeants and combat fatigues. As he and Phil Coulson walked the battleship's tarmac, a woman with short red hair headed their way.

"Agent Romanoff." Agent Coulson introduces once they reach each other. "Captain Rogers."

"Ma'am," He greets with a nod.

"Hi," She returns.

Agent Romanoff was a different kind of soldier. Aside from Peggy, there hadn't been many female officers back when Rogers was serving seventy years (under a month) ago, but by the way, this agent stood and the hard look in her eyes, there was no mistaking her for anything else. Yet, for all the familiar signs of a fellow veteran, Steve recognized there was more to her than that. Something more refined – something darker, more secretive, and lethal – than what was typical of army men lived in this woman.

Romanoff – cool eyes and thinly-veiled smirk– was a different kind, he had no doubts about that.

"Well, I'm needed on the bridge," Coulson informs and gestures to Romanoff. "Romanoff will help you get along, and make sure you don't get lost. I'll see you both in a bit."

Agent Coulson went on his way, Steve and the other agent moving on in the other direction.

"There was quite the buzz around here, finding you in the ice." Romanoff nonchalantly remarks as they stroll the ship. "I thought Coulson was gonna swoon. Did he ask you to sign his Captain America trading cards yet?"

"Trading cards?" Steve asks.

"They're vintage, he's very proud," Natasha replied, vaguely amused.

(Well, that was… nice for him.)

"But, Bruce! I want to see the planes!" A sudden voice whined.

Steve whipped his head around to find where the voice had come from. He knew what the sound was, but it couldn't have been what he thought. This was a secret military base, a dangerous SHIELD war vessel no less. There was no way it could possibly –

"Captain Rogers," Natasha catches his attention. "This is nuclear physicist, Dr. Bruce Banner."

Dr. Banner had his back them on one knee, talking quietly to–

…

_**(Was that a little girl?!)** _

"Oh, yeah. Hi." Dr. Banner quickly turns around and straightens up to greet him."I heard you'd be coming,"

"Dr. Banner," Steve shakes his hand, trying not look at the child peeking from behind him.

Dr. Banner didn't have the look of an exceptional man, honestly. He was on the taller side of average, with an ordinary build, graying dark hair, and posture that made him look more unassuming than already was. Banner moved like a man completely out of his depth in the face of war machines – sidestepping and shrinking back from anyone that walked past. He wasn't a fighter, not really – he was just a man with knowledge and strong will. He'd known men like that during the war – men like Dr. Erskine and Howard– and Rogers knew the value of men that fought with something other than guns and fists.

Banner seemed like a decent man, Steve decided, and it was a shame that most would probably never know it.

"Word is you can find the cube," Steve inquires.

"Is that the–uhm–only word on me?" He asks bit dejectedly, looking anywhere but the captain as he does.

"Only word I care about," Steve replied easily.

Bruce visibly relaxes at the easy response and nods gratefully at the man with a tight smile.

You liar!" a small voice yells.

And Bruce's face instantly crumbles in irritation and exhaustion.

"Mitra!" He yells out in frustration.

Steve's gaze wanders down to the little girl next to the physicist. She's a tiny kid, skinny and barely reaching his hip. She's got dark skin and black hair – long, messy, and obviously needing a cut with the way it nearly covers her glaring brown eyes. The little girl gives him a once-over with hands set on her hips like his ma would when he'd come home with a black eye or busted lip and a story to tell. She acts as if she hadn't even heard doctor yell her name, sizing Steve up with a firm scowl.

"I'm sorry?" he asks, looking down at her.

The kid gives him the most condescending eye roll Steve's ever seen.

(He's kind of impressed.)

"You're not Captain America!" She crosses her arms and declares with the kind of conviction only a child can muster.

"Mitra…" Banner groans tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Well, he isn't!" the girl– Mitra?– looks up at the doctor and insists. "Before, you said Captain America was coming, but he is **not** Captain America! He can't be!"

Rogers watches as the two argue and can't help finding it all a little funny. Being Captain America got him lots of reactions, most of which usually ranged from starstruck (which was a bit awkward) to admiration that bordered on intimidating (which was even more awkward). It was actually unexpectedly refreshing, seeing a little girl so unimpressed with him that she'd even question who he was. Steve kind of didn't want to correct her.

"And why do you say that?" he says instead.

She scowls like the answer should have been obvious.

"Captain America died one hundred years ago fighting bad people in a war–"

"Technically it's 70 years ago, Mitra." Bruce interrupts, sounding almost bored.

"And even if he wasn't," The girl said loudly, purposefully talking over the doctor. "He'd be old – really, really, **really** , old. So, you **can't** be him."

Steve bows his head with a silent laugh. Well, the kid certainly didn't sugar coat things.

"Fair enough," He replies, looking up with a playful smile.

The child is immediately confused, likely not expecting him to bow out like that. He bends down at the waist to meet the little girl's eye.

"Tell you what?" The Captain holds out a hand. "How about you just call me Steve? That's a common name, and you don't have to call me captain or anything. That shouldn't be a problem right, Miss?"

She looks distrustfully at his outstretched hand, arms still folded over her chest as she considers him for good long few seconds.

"Fine, _Steve_ ," She grumbles, reluctantly taking his hand. "My name is Mitra. I help Dr. Bruce."

His large hand completely covered Mitra's tiny one. The good captain held back a laugh – if he had to guess, Mitra wasn't type take his laughter kindly.

"Well, It's nice to meet you, Mitra." Steve smiles brightly at the little girl. "I hope we can be pals from here on out."

For some reason, the girl cringes at him, looking even more skeptical than before. She turns her head to face Dr. Banner.

"… Is this one of those weird adults you said I should not talk to?"

Steve's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

"OooKAY!" Quickly, Bruce turns Mitra around by the shoulders to face him. "How 'bout you go ask one of the pilots about the planes, ok?"

"But you said–!"

"Yup, that's what I said! Now please go try being polite for once, and ask the pilot about the plane!"

"Come on, Mitra," Natasha quickly intervenes to guide the child gently towards the hangar bay. "I can show you how the flight system works."

The men watch Natasha lead the girl away, and once Mitra is out of earshot Bruce heaves a loud and tired sigh.

"I'm sorry about that," Bruce combs back his hair with his fingers anxiously. "Mitra's – not great with new people. She's really a good kid though, once you get pass the… attitude…"

"No, no it's fine." Steve waves off his concerns without a second thought. "She seems like she's got a good head on her shoulders, and it's good that she listens to you about… that kind of thing."

"Listens to me?" Bruce chuckles and shakes his head. "No, no, Mitra's too stubborn to listen to anyone, and she doesn't like talking to people much either. You probably just caught her off guard, and she latched onto the first thing that came to mind."

"Is that right?" Steve warmly laughs. "Well, she's a good kid. You've done alright with her."

"No, that's…" Banner shakes his head. "I haven't done anything special, Captain. Really."

Rogers enjoyed moments like this, where he could talk about normal things – things he hoped to see through for himself. It helped him feel like a human being again (like he might just get it one day in spite of it all) and reminded him of things he was still willing to fight for. The calm moment was a small reprieve from the tension that was slowly building up around them all. Steve takes a hard breath as he catches sight of Mitra and Romanoff talking with an airman in the distance.

(Lord, she looked even tinier this far away. How even old was she? Did she have any clue what was going on?)

"Dr. Banner, I have to ask," he says, shaking his head and speaking strongly. "Mitra – she's a kid. You have to know this is dangerous for her. What exactly is she doing here?"

(" _What is she doing being with you_?"

Steve doesn't say that –wouldn't say it. He wouldn't be needlessly cruel to this man.)

Something about the physicist shifts in that moment. The captain could see the weariness and deep scars, so well hidden till now, reflected in the other man's eyes. Bruce smiles faintly at him, bittersweet and hollow.

"Believe me, Captain Rogers. More than anything, I wanted to keep Mitra away from all of this," He stretches his arms out in enthesis and lets them fall back to his sides. "She doesn't deserve to get roped into all this insanity because of me. If I'd know this would –"

He cuts himself off, clearing his throat and awkwardly straightens out his blazer, and Steve gets the feeling this isn't the first time Banner's had thoughts like this.

"Nothing I can do about that now." The doctor says gruffly. "Mitra's not going anywhere anymore, I know that much. We've just got to adjust and keep moving."

(And, wasn't that just the _definition_ of easier said than done?)

Steve didn't ask him anything else. Clearly, the poor man didn't need his continued prying.

"…it–uhmm–must be strange for you, all of this." Dr. Banner remarks, changing the subject.

"Well," The captain gazes over the ship, watching the soldiers work all around them. "this is actually kind of familiar."

A moment later, Romanoff returns with Mitra, who is happily stumbling along with an adult sized pilot's helmet rattling around on her head. She looked like a bobble head doll.

"Gentlemen, you may wanna step inside in a minute," She warns. "It's gonna get a little hard to breathe."

Suddenly, the ship begins to rumble under their feet. Mitra's new helmet begins to shake on top of her head, and she struggles to keep it on and out of her field of vision.

"Is this is a submarine?" Steve asks with disbelief.

"Really?" Banner quipped, looking around. "They want me in a submerged pressurized metal container?"

Mitra quickly takes his hand, using her other hand to keep the helmet from shaking.

"What wrong, Dr. Bruce? Do suber–arines make you jumpy like loud noises?" Mitra asks innocently.

He doesn't have time to respond, as the shaking worsens, and before long the small group can see parts of the ship begin to reshape before their eyes. Mitra shouts in surprise at the display, while Steve and Bruce to look on in utter, Mitra runs past both men to get a closer look at the edge of the ship. Steve and Bruce quickly follow, and the doctor manages to grab the back of the girls' jacket before she can speed off over the edge. Four huge lift fans mounted on the sides of the craft start to lift into the air in vertical flight, the massive craft lifting itself from the ocean in a slow ascent skyward.

Steve and Mitra, still held tightly by the collar of her coat, both watch with nearly identical expressions of awe at the scene before them. Banner, on the other hand, smiles in dry humor.

"OH, NO. THIS IS MUCH WORSE!" The scientist exclaims over the large fans.

"THIS IS SO AMAZING!" The little girl beside him shouts in exhilaration.

Clearly, they saw things very differently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One big criticism _The Avengers_ franchise has gotten from fans over the years is that the characters are not given any depth to their personalities and not given the chance to be more than ridiculously strong superhumans or other. Steve was found in the ice approximately _three to four weeks_ before the events in _The Avengers_ movie begins. He is still very much struggling to cope with his new circumstances and is **not** doing it in a healthy way (because, in general, the Avengers are just disasters at dealing with shit). I wanted to show his perspective and where he is mentally when we first meet him, as well as what he thinks of his teammates. And on that note, don't kids say the darndest things? Mitra is such a know-it-all, and Bruce is just done.
> 
> (Not-so-fun fact, Mitra doesn't know how to deal with people who are just nice for no reason, and it made me really sad when I realized it.)
> 
> I had whole other first scene involving the plane (or "quinjet") ride to the ship (helicarrier) where we get to see Mitra being very excited about her first plane ride, and Bruce getting caught up in what's happening, but cut it because it wasn't relevant to the story. I worked really hard on it and rewrote it _at least_ three times, probably more, but I still had to cut it and yes, I am very unhappy about it, thank you. We have more talks with Nat and Bruce and mostly it's Bruce telling her the Avengers Initiative is a disaster waiting to happen in no uncertain terms. I will be posting that on Idle Hands along with another thing I'm working on. it will be a behind the scenes bit, if you will, for Coulson and Fury – because unseen issues need to be dealt with and all that.
> 
> Wow, what's this issue their dealing with, I wonder?
> 
> See you next chapter! all support is much appreciated. **Thank you so much for reading!**


	10. The Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You know what she's capable of…All it'll take is one bad day. One."_
> 
>  
> 
> With all his cards on the table, Bruce meets a man of quiet fury. Deals are struck. Warnings are given. And all the while, the world still needs to be saving.

* * *

" _Beware the fury of a patient man." – John Dryden_

* * *

 

Steve stands beside Director Nick Fury, eyes alight with wonder at the sight of the ship's center of operations. Bruce looks around as well, just as impressed, although the presence of so many armed men leaves him unable to fully appreciate it. The situation also isn't helped the fact that Mitra is either too curious about her surroundings to notice his discomfort, or just too used to him acting strange to give it much thought. Just like the planes outside, the girl wanted to explore and run around like they were in some kind of amusement park. Its wonder he can keep an eye on her at all at this rate.

Bruce has to scoop her up and away from a door guarded by two agents while trying not to draw anyone's attention.

"Stop running around," he lightly scolds.

It's no use – Mitra pouts and stills for only a few moments before she's off exploring again. He can feel a headache coming on.

( _Why did he bring her, again?)_

"Doctor," Fury greets, sparing a bemused glance at the child that races past."Thank you for coming."

( _Oh right. That's why…)_

Reluctantly, Dr. Banner shakes his hand.

"Thanks for asking nicely," He returns quietly. "So, uh... how long am I staying?"

"Once we get our hands on the Tesseract, you're in the wind," Fury assures.

"And… my conditions?" The doctor asks wearily.

The Director squares his shoulder with a leveled stare.

"Yes, Romanoff told me about your… _circumstances_ …"

Both men shift their eyes to the subject of their bargaining. Some feet away, Mitra is leaning heavily on one of the railings to look out at the large windshields. She has climbed on the railings – feet on the middle rung and hands gripping the top – her new helmet sitting next to her on the floor. Just as she looked near ready to tip over, Rogers comes to gently ease her back from the railing, distracting her with conversation. Bruce lets out a breath through his nose – another day saved by the good Captain.

"I'm sure you know that I'll need to know more concerning her abilities as well as a thorough look at her background, but…" Fury folds his hands behind his back and straightens his back. "You have my word that SHIELD will keep her safe."

The Doctor wasn't convinced.

"That's it?"

"Her powers will need to be evaluated as soon as possible for everyone's safety on board, but yes. That's it." Fury tells him stoically.

"An 'evaluation'? …What exactly does that entail?" Bruce questions wearily.

"We need to know what she's capable of, doctor," the Director informs. "Once we know that, you'll have nothing to worry about."

"I'll be holding you to that, Director," Banner meets the man eye to eye.

There is no mistaking the warning in his words.

Tension thickens between the men. The scientist seems colder now, less fearful than before. He stands straighter, stronger, making use of his natural height in a way that contraindicated his timid nature. There is no change in complexion, no growth, no violence – the man had changed, but not in the way anyone expected. That Fury would be so visibly unphased by the sudden fierceness in the doctor's gaze is impressive in and of itself, though behind his unflinching stare he is no less weary.

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Fury acknowledges carefully.

Bruce watches him for a moment longer, evaluating the veteran spy as best he can. Then, between one deeply inhaled breath and the next, Dr. Bruce Banner is the mild-mannered scientist once again. He's as harmless as ever – on the surface at least – but realizing that there was more under the facade than what SHIELD truly knew was not a welcome surprise.

_Just who was Mitra Hazra to Dr. Banner, really?_

The doctor clears his throat with a short nod and quickly switches gears.

"Have you gotten anywhere on locating the cube?"

Fury turns to Agent Coulson monitoring the lower ranked agents on the lower level.

"We're sweeping every wirelessly accessible camera on the planet," Coulson informs briskly, straight-backed and arms folded. "Cell-phones, laptops – if it's connected to a satellite, it's eyes and ears for us."  
_  
_ "That's still not gonna find them in time." Natasha interrupts.

( _She eyes one of the computer screens with an image of a rugged, stone-faced man with short hair and hooded green eyes staring back. He seems unremarkable –forgettable even– and yet there is a coldness to his gaze that changes his entire demeanor into something far from the ordinary. He is dangerous, but as to what extent only time would tell._ )

"You have to narrow the field. How many spectrometers do you have access to?" Banner inquires.

"How many are there?" Fury flippantly returns.

"Call every lab you know, tell them to put the spectrometers on the roof and calibrate them for gamma rays," Dr. Banner orders, shedding his coat and rolling up his purple shirt sleeves. "I'll rough out a tracking algorithm based on cluster recognition. At least we could rule out a few places. Do you have somewhere for me to work?"

"Agent Romanoff, would you show Dr. Banner to his laboratory, please."

The doctor calls to Mitra, and the little girl reluctantly pulls away from the railings and comes to his side.

"You're gonna love it, Doc. We got all the toys." Natasha comments playfully.

"Toys?" Mitra perks up with interest.

"I, uh, don't think she means real toys, Mitra," Bruce whispers back.

She lets out a few grumbles but follows all the same. Discreetly, (or least, discreet to her) Mitra glances over her shoulder at the men left behind. Her eyes unintentionally meet Steve's, who gives her a friendly smile and kindly waves goodbye. To his amusement, the little girl quickly turns away in clear embarrassment and hurries to Dr. Banner's side without a word. As the three disappear through the hallway, Steve expression sobers as he comes to Fury's side.

"…That girl," He says solemnly, his gaze never leaving the corridor. "She's here for a reason, isn't she?"

"…There are still some strange things out there, Captain.  _Strange things…_ " Fury replies cryptically, his arms folded. "I like to keep an eye out for future headaches before they have a chance to get any worse."

* * *

There's a shooting range on the helicarrier.

( _He's not even shocked anymore. There could be small farming town living somewhere in this thing and he wouldn't bat an eye._ )

Though to be fair, it's not actually a shooting range – not completely anyway. The range is only one sector of the large gymnasium-sized room, cordoned off from weights and training mats and different types of fitness equipment that given their own sections of the large space. Really, it would be more apt to call the place a training ground – a place for SHIELD personnel to polish their skills and keep fit during their downtime. Still, that doesn't explain why Fury is standing over a table of potted plants with Romanoff beside him and two other agents behind them. He'd been in the middle of sorting out his tracking algorithm in the lab before Romanoff brought him and Mitra here without explanation. He hoped this wasn't the start of some odd pattern between him and the agent.

"Dr. Banner, Miss Hazra. Thank you for coming." He greets stoically as if they'd actually had a choice.

Mitra jolts at his greeting, expecting to be ignored by these adults as they talk to her doctor. She grips Bruce's hand with both of hers and moves to hide behind his leg, looking up at the one-eyed man with suspicion in her eyes. A squeeze of her hands in his is all the comfort Bruce can give her in the presence of the director, but it will have to do.

"Director. May I ask why you needed us here?" he asks, but really he can guess by now.

"Just a simple evaluation, Dr. Banner – like we discussed," Fury answers simply, his one-eyed gaze falling to Mitra hiding behind Bruce.

Likely realizing this had to do with her, Mitra huddles even closer to Bruce.

"E–v–a–u–tion?" She says slowly, sounding nervous.

Mitra looks up at Bruce, tugging at his hand for his attention. "What does that mean?"

Bruce looks passed Fury and Romanoff to the two agents behind them. A black woman with hair secured in a severe bun and a soldier's stance, and a tall Caucasian man with boyish features and lanky limbs barely passable for fieldwork. Why they were here, he had no clue – they hardly looked like backup acceptable for a threat like him. In any case, he didn't have the time to worry about them now.

"It's okay," he bends a knee and tells her soothingly. "They just want to know what you can do, so that they won't be surprised later. It's just to make sure everyone safe."

"…To make everyone safe?" Mitra anxiously glances at the group, wringing her hands nervously as they stare.

"That's right," Bruce ignores Fury and his agents, focusing on his efforts to reassure her. "They just want to be sure they know what you can do in case of emergency. Remember, like the 'just in case rules'?"

"… Just in case something bad happens or you tell me something bad is happening, I go hide and wait for you to say it is safe," Mitra recites, gaining some confidence with the understanding. "So, this just in case… they need me to do something?"

Not quite what he was going for, but if it helped …

"Yes," He says after a brief moment. "It's so we can help as much as we can. You can do that right, Mitra?"

She thinks about it a bit more, her hands fidgeting all the while, before nodding determinedly.

"Okay, I can do it," She says resolutely.

"Good girl," Bruce smiles.

( _He's an awful man. A despicable, awful man and he didn't deserve her trust._ )

Together, the two walked hand-in-hand towards the Director and his agents.

"She is only going to show you once," Bruce tells them, leaving no room for argument.

"Of course," the Director agrees patiently.

The group remains straight-faced in front of him, giving none of their thoughts away. At the daunting and unflinching gaze of the SHIELD head, the little girl appears to balk, but a brief nod and faint smile from her doctor are all she needs to come around again. Cautiously, Mitra brings her hand to one of the potted plants and softly brushes fingertips against vibrant green leaves. As soon as contact is made, the leaves shrivel and brown and the plant crowds in on itself as if in pain. Mitra waits to continue, watching the expressions of her audience to make sure she is doing what they'd asked.

When the adults around her remained visibly unphased, Mitra swallows down her apprehension and brings both hands up to the plant she left dying. Again, the change is immediate – only instead of shrinking in on itself, now the shrub flourishes out in lively colors of not only green leaves but red and yellow flowers that begin to sprout on the branches where they hadn't before in fast session. It grows larger and reaches higher, taking on a life of its own under Mitra's young hands that all the while keeping gentle contact on its bottom. Then a crack rings out in the room, and Mitra calmly removes her hands – there is a crevice going down the side of the flower pot and roots peek out as if prying open a shell. The red-flowered shrub towered proudly over them, standing high overhead on its place at the table.

"Impressive," Fury complements passively. "Her control of plant–life is stronger than I would have guessed."

"I don't control plants!" Mitra yells out indignantly.

For the first time since the start of all this, Fury lets mild confusion change his features, and Romanoff raises her eyebrows at the little girl. Behind them, the guards shift in an almost nervous manner before coming back to their stock-still stands of attention. Behind Mitra, Banner gives a light satisfied smirk and stuffed his hands into his pockets with a shrug.

"Alright," Fury drawls out after a beat. "Than, what exactly do you do, young lady?"

Mitra looks ready to explain but stops mid-way and purses her lips with a thoughtful expression. Her eyes drift to Romanoff and a thought seems to pass through her mind that seems to sours her mood but she sighs in resignation and points rudely to the woman.

"You! Red Lady! Let me have your hands!" the girl commands.

Natasha seems genuinely at loss. Her eyebrows raise, her mouth drops a bit, and body moves just slightly as if wanting to step back. Then she comes back to herself, and the straight-face soldier is there again as if it always was. It's only a for a moment, barely anything, but the look brings a rush of vicious satisfaction to the good doctor.  _It doesn't feel good does it_ , Bruce thinks a little vindictively,  _to have the floor swept out from under you with just a few words_.

"Is this necessary?" Director Fury directs the question to Banner with obvious skepticism.

"You wanted to see what she can do," Bruce replies easily with a shrug.

No one moves to comply with or deny Mitra's demand, and all is still except for the persistent tapping of the little girl's foot as she waits.

"Well?!" She shouts, her little patience lost.

With a quick glance and a nod from Fury, and Natasha moves to stand before Mitra and presents her hands. The bandages are fresher now, her wounds cleaned and redressed by trained personnel on board, but as Mitra unwound the gauze and surgical tape it's clear the injuries still need time to heal properly. The blood had clodded the holes and scrapes in her flesh, and the skin was discolored and bruised in places where the barbs had hit harder than others, and although they are well treated, the wounds are still painful to look at. Carefully, far more gently than her demeanor would lead one to believe her capable of, Mitra laid her hands over Romanoff's and – tongue poking out of her mouth and brow creased – began to concentrate.

All eyes in the room watched as, within Mitra's hands, Natasha's wounds begin to gradually close in front of them and the healthy color of her skin returns the woman's beaten hands. Natasha gasps at the odd warmth of energy encasing her hands at the child's touch. The whole process takes a matter of minutes, and once Mitra let's go with a heavy sigh and droopy eyes, Natasha's hands are healed and whole once again. Bruce notes with pride that the process is faster than the first time Mitra had demonstrated her abilities to him.

"You better be careful," Mitra tells her, rubbing her eyes of sleep. "That is all new skin and other stuff, so you got to be careful for–a–couple of days or else you will just get hurt again."

Romanoff flexes her fingers and turns her hands this way and that, awed by the lack scaring or bruising or blood – only smooth, unblemished skin despite the injuries she'd had minutes before.

"Oh wow…"

All heads snap to the forgotten SHIELD agents in the background, specifically the now very flustered man looking desperate hide to himself. The severe woman next to him looks ready to kill him while he muttered shaky apologies.

"Yes…" Fury drawls with a condescending look. "It seems you've got more secrets than we've expected, Doctor."

"They weren't my secrets, Director," Banner says simply.

"How did you do this?" Natasha asks the child in mild wonder.

Mitra rolls on the balls of feet and she fidgets at the question, suddenly bashful.

"I don't remember how Dr. Bruce said before. It was something like – like I just tell your blocks to do stuff and they do! – um…"

"She's talking about cells," Bruce supplies helpfully.

"Yeah, those things!"

"Mitra is able to manipulate the cells in a living organism," he explains clinically, resting hand protectively on the little girl. "This generally occurs through contact, but there have been a few occurrences where close proximity has been enough for her abilities to activate."

"How is she capable of something like that?" Fury questions.

"I haven't been able to figure that out yet myself," the doctor admits. "My options were limited in terms of a more in-depth analysis of her abilities, and it was honestly a struggle to pinpoint the little information I've given you now."

Fury's gaze shift to Romanoff and a silent communication is had before the woman comes to crouch down to Mitra's level.

"Thank you for doing this," Natasha smiles gratefully. "I know you didn't have to."

Mitra shrugs half-heartedly, avoiding her eyes, and Natasha glances at Bruce, discreetly gouging his reaction.

"I'd like to treat you to something in the mess hall. It's the least I can do," She tells the child with a smile.

" _Mess hall_?" The girl asks, tilting her head to one side.

"Come on, I'll show you," Romanoff laughs, beckoning the girl to follow her.

The two SHIELD agents follow their superior silently to the mess hall, but the little girl doesn't. Instead, she looks wearily over at Banner for reassurance.

"Go on," He says with a nod to the agent. "I'll be there soon."

She still doesn't move right away, but eventually, Mitra goes off with the red-haired woman, glancing over her shoulder at Bruce until she's completely out of sight. Despite himself, he feels warm at her reluctance to leave him. As guilty as he felt for allowing her to get as close to him as she was, her trust is something he couldn't bring himself to regret even now. He wishes that wasn't the case – it would make what he needs to do easier if she didn't trust as she did now.

"Cellular manipulation," Fury announces. "You've been harboring a child with the ability to manipulate living beings with just a  _touch._ "

The accusatory tone ignites his irritation and replaces his previous affection.

"She was an orphan girl who needed help. That's what  _she still is_." He turns on Fury, aggressive and defiant. "And you gave me your word that you would do that."

"Her abilities are dangerous –  _she is dangerous_." Fury doesn't back down. "How are you expecting her to live normally when death is quite  _literally_  at her fingertips, doctor."

"It isn't my concern how,  _Director,_ " He spits the title out like an insult. "We had a deal, and if you want me here,  _you are going to keep your end of it_."

"And what happens when we do, Banner? You know what she's capable of, and from what you've said that isn't all, either. Her powers are evolving – to the point where one of my own people was caught off guard by her abilities – and soon she won't even need to touch someone to hurt them. All it'll take is one bad day.  _One –_ " holds a finger up. "– disagreement, a failing grade, a bad break up – and she could have blood on her hands without her even trying."

Bruce bats down the anger he feels in his chest as he glares and clenches his fists at his sides. He knows what Fury is saying is a rational concern, knows that there is danger in what he's demanding of this man. That reasoning is likely helping in keeping him grounded despite his turbulent emotions. And yet…

"That won't happen," He finds himself saying. "Mitra won't hurt anyone like that."

"She already has! Or did you forget the old man you nearly had to amputate a leg for because he happened to get in the way of the wrong little girl?"

"She didn't have the control then that she does now. You wouldn't understand–"

"Tell me, Banner, because  _I am_  having trouble understanding." Fury walks slowly to come face–to–face with the man, challenging him. "Since the moment the Hulk emerged, you've spent years isolating yourself from the world, protecting people from that beast that you couldn't control. You've pushed away everyone, sacrificed everything to prevent that one  _bad day_  – that one trigger you know can come at any time. And now you stand here, with a child just as – no,  _maybe more dangerous than you ever have been_ , and you want me to what? Give her a pass and have a little faith? Hope that the worse doesn't happen, because you said it wouldn't?

Fury shakes his head.

"No. I won't do that, Dr. Banner, I will not do that. The world doesn't work like that, and you know this. There has to be more than that," He arches a brow at the doctor. "You need to give me something more."

"I can get you the Tesseract," Bruce replies sharply, eyes never once leaving Fury's.

Fury leans away and his jaw clenches.

"I don't respond well to ultimatums, doctor. You might not like what I do with it."

They are still for a moment, tension drawn tighter between them than it's ever been.

" _She isn't like me,_ " Bruce declares resolutely. "Whatever you think, whatever you're afraid of –  _she is not like me_."

Bruce thinks there might have been a time he would've feared a soldier with such steel. Nick Fury is a man of duty – of conviction and hard-fought ideals. He is a silent statue waiting to unleash his cold fury to the enemy. The kind of man that wears sacrifice and responsibility like the eyepatch on his face, and whose life has been defined by his mission – an all-encompassing goal that, though he might never achieve it himself, he struggles towards it regardless. The man is master and a pawn all in one – a general more than willing to lose even himself to the battlefront if it meant success in the end. It's the kind of near-obsessive commitment Banner learned to fear a long time ago.

But he's not afraid now. In a way strange, he feels like their almost the same.

"We'll hold up our end, Dr. Banner," Fury finally announces. "We'll make sure there's a place for Mitra Hazra in the world if there's a world by the end of all this."

Banner takes the hint with a firm nod.

"It shouldn't be  _too_  difficult find a place for you two live a relatively unbothered life." Fury gives a long sigh, already exhausted by the turn of events. "Although, given the prevalence of social media nowadays, somewhere remote might be your best option. But then, I'm sure you already knew that."

"Oh, no," Banner interjects hesitantly. "That won't be necessary."

Fury looks at him, bewildered, silently demanding an explanation.

"Mitra deserves a normal life," he explains. "She can't have that if I'm around."

Realization colors his features, and Fury gives the other man sober nod.

"I see," Fury replies quietly. "In that case, it should be easier to relocate her when this is over."

"That's good… That's good…"

There isn't much for him to say other than that.

Their business over, Fury makes to leave. As he passes Bruce, he stops to place a hand on the other man's shoulder.

"… She'll be safer this way, Dr. Banner. If nothing else, you can take comfort in that."

And with that, Bruce Banner is alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a plan, and at this point, I'm sure it shows. It's all just plot points, some cool scenes, and then just a bunch of static. This will likely happen again. But for those of you who are still with me, thank you for that. By all rights, your faith in is me ridiculously misplaced, but I appreciate it regardless.
> 
> Next chapter will likely (hopefully, really should) be the introduction of at least some of our heavy-hitters and really get this ball rolling. I've really got to prepare myself for Stark and Mitra's first meeting because that has to go wrong in all the right ways, and Stark is going to be on point or I'll have wasted all of our time here. Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
